


Broken Trust

by merentha13



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Case Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-30
Updated: 2011-09-30
Packaged: 2017-10-24 04:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merentha13/pseuds/merentha13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> Doyle has betrayed CI5 and Bodie… or has he?  Will Bodie set aside his hurt and anger, to find his missing partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Trust

**Chapter One**

“You’re my partner. You’re supposed to watch my back, not put a knife in it.” The words were spoken softly, making their edge that much sharper.

“That goes both ways, Doyle. Partnership is supposed to be mutual...so is trust”

He winced inwardly at Bodie’s choice of words. _“Doyle”_. He was only Doyle when Bodie was putting distance between them. The intimacy of being “ _Ray_ ” was gone. As much as it hurt, that is the way it had to be. “ _Might as well finish it now, I probably won’t get a better chance.”_

One last scene to play out, and then Cowley would let him leave. He looked past Bodie’s outraged eyes to the other agents congregated around the bar at the “Hound and Hare”. Before it had all been rumours and stories, talk with no proof. Now there was evidence. Evidence the old man had shown Bodie this morning. Now it was real.

“That’s a fine line you’re walking, Bodie. Where’s your trust in me? You’re pretty quick to believe all the rot that’s bein’ spread around.”

“Are you denying it then?” Bodie poked him in the chest, pushing him back against the edge of the table.

“I shouldn’t have to.”

“Quit dancing around. What the fuck did you do it for?”

The angry words were followed by Bodie’s fist. The first blow caught him in the stomach, doubling him over. The second in the jaw, lifting him up, and then taking him down. He landed hard on the table; the legs collapsed and he found himself on the floor. He felt something inside him break, something that lay deeper than his bones.

“How the hell can you believe that I did?” Quiet pain filled the words he whispered up at the furious figure towering above him. “Bodie?”

“I don’t know you, Doyle. Turns out I never did.”

For a fleeting moment, he saw a lost look in the beloved blue eyes and it stopped his instinct to retaliate with his own fists. Maybe his own pleading voice, and the blood running down his cheek worked to make Bodie reconsider. But no, Cowley had shown Bodie the proof. Bodie thought his partner had crossed the line, turned traitor. There was no second chance for the betrayer. His was a double crime. He had betrayed not only CI5, but in doing that, his partner. There wasn’t going to be a second chance. Bodie glared down at him as he lay sprawled on the floor.

“You’re on your own, Doyle,” Bodie spat as he walked away.

Doyle found himself bleeding into a puddle of spilled beer and broken glass. He struggled to sit, wincing at the pain in his side. Looking around he caught sight of his lover’s stiff back walking away from him. _Ex_ -lover, _ex_ -partner, it was all over now.

“Bloody hell,” he sighed sadly.

“Damn! Ray!” A surprised voice and a tall, dark shadow startled him. “You alright, mate?”

“Murphy.” He hadn’t realised the other agent was still there. The others had left right after Bodie’s exit. He looked up into sympathetic eyes. “Give us a hand. I think I may have a couple bruised ribs.”

Murphy drove him to his flat and cleaned him up. “Are you going to be alright, Ray? Are you really going to go through with this?”

“Don’t really have a choice now do I?” Ray shrugged.

“There’s always a choice, mate”.

“I’ll be alright, Murph. Go on home. I’ve a few things to do before I go undercover.”

Shaking his head, Murphy said nothing as he left Ray, alone, in the flat.

Ray ran a hand through his dishevelled curls, tugging hard. He poured himself a double scotch. _“You’re on your own.”_ Bodie’s words were bitter in his ears. _“Not the first time,”_ he thought to himself. Memories crept in as he sat down gingerly on the settee, holding his aching ribs. He downed his drink and let his thoughts drift back to...

 _... a skinny eleven year old waiting in front of the chemist’s for his Mum to finish her shopping. When it turns dark he finally accepts that she isn’t coming back for him. The tears come as the policeman walks him to the station..._

 _... a young hustler, selling his body to others. They are trying to forget their own loneliness for a few hours, and just maybe he is as well; hoping that the indignities he suffers in their sweaty clinches will pay well enough for him to go to night school, finally sit his exams, and maybe get to university where he can make a better life for himself than the one he is living now. He hides his tears with anger; no one can be allowed to see how much this life hurts._

 _... a naive art student standing behind a curtained window watching as his lover gets into a taxi; the offer of a job more important than the man left shattered in their home. Tears slide silently down a broken cheek..._

 _...an idealistic new policeman, ostracised because he believes in the line that separates the villains from the good guys; alone because no one will work with a copper who grassed on his fellow officers. Tears of anger burn his eyes, but none fall..._

He snorted at the poetic bent of his recollections. He could hear Bodie now, “Barbara Cartland couldn’t have done better, mate.”

  
 _...the meeting with George Cowley at the Yard. Feeling sure he is going to lose his job on the drug squad, he jumps at Cowley’s offer to join CI5. Maybe he has finally found a home._

His glass empty, he got up to pour another. A rueful smile crossed his lips.

‘Home, eh?’ he said to himself settling back in his seat.

There had been bumps. He and his new partner, ‘W.A.P. Bodie’, had not immediately hit it off. Bodie had made it clear that he did not think Raymond Doyle, ‘DC Plod’, was qualified for the job. It had been dispiriting to learn he wasn’t accepted, that he was on his own again. And it had stung, more than he expected. He had got by on his own for so long he didn’t realise how much he needed to belong somewhere. He had reached a point in his life where he needed an anchor and had foolishly put all his hope in CI5.

But he was nothing if not stubborn and he finally did earn a bit of Bodie’s respect. He had to dig for that acceptance. A smug Bodie had mockingly told him he wasn’t cool the first time he let his temper get the better of him. But Bodie had also offered some praise, _‘a good man to know,’_ and some of the pain had disappeared. Despite their differences, Cowley kept them together and they made themselves into the best team on the A Squad.

 _...Then there was Ann Holly. He had fallen hard, even told Bodie he might ask her to marry him. But Ann wanted things that he didn’t, wanted a person that he wasn’t, and he was left standing alone again. It had hurt, but there were no tears left._

Bodie had surprised him, offering him a shoulder and he accepted. They relied on each other. He wasn’t alone anymore, or he hadn’t been until Cowley had assigned him this solo operation. He knew it was going to be hard. Cowley warned him that losing Bodie’s respect and friendship was a very real possibility. If only Cowley knew the whole of it. He thought Bodie knew him well enough to question the veracity of the charges, to give his partner of eight years the benefit of the doubt. He’d misjudged. Badly. He sported a bruised jaw and an empty flat to show for it. And he was alone again.

But this assignment was bigger than the partnership, bigger than the relationship they’d built so slowly, so carefully. If things went according to plan, he’d be able to bring down a major drug operation, uncover a mole in CI5 and keep a large cache of weapons off the streets of London. This was what he’d signed on to the squad to do: to protect the public, to make a difference. He needed to do this. Once the operation was finished he believed Bodie would accept the reasons for his actions, the reason why Bodie had been left out of things... _if_ Bodie would give him a chance to explain. That was the uncertain part. Would Bodie listen to his explanations?

Cowley’s plan required that Bodie not know, and the plan was working better than either of them thought possible. He still thought he should have pushed harder to have Bodie know the truth.

 _“I don’t like it...sir,” he scowled at his boss._

 _Cowley slid his glasses back up his nose and glared back._

 _“You don’t have to like it, Doyle. I’m not in the habit of asking for your approval.”_

 _Cowley watched as Doyle began his inevitable pacing._

 _“There’s speculation that MI6 has planted someone in our organisation, someone who is reporting our activities to Willis. They’ve beaten us to the punch too frequently for me to dismiss the speculation as rumour.” Cowley’s eyes studied him as he moved around the room._

 _“Ach, Doyle, sit.” Cowley pulled a bottle of malt out of his desk and poured two glasses._

 _“I need a mole of my own to monitor the latest intelligence surrounding MI6 and a drug ring. With your drug squad background, you’re the best placed agent to take that role. And Willis has always been interested in you.”_

 _Ray quickly swallowed his drink._

 _“What’s the plan then?” he asked with hesitation._

 _“With a few well placed photographs, a few visits to less than respectable clubs and a few stories from your youth we’ll have people questioning your character, your motives. Your co-workers will distance themselves from you so they’re not tainted by your corruption. You’ll become isolated and disillusioned, a prime target for Willis.”_

 _“No one will believe it.”_

 _“They will if we can make Bodie believe it.”_

 _“Bodie..,” the word was a pain-filled sigh._

 _He felt the blood leave his face as a frission of disquiet moved through him. He stood and slammed his glass on Cowley’s desk, taking a bit of pleasure in seeing the man flinch. His fingers curled into fists. He turned away from Cowley to look out the window._

 _“We have to tell Bodie the truth. He has to be involved in this.” The words were quiet, but filled with anger._

 _“No, Doyle. If this is going to work, Bodie has to accept the deception as true. If your partner isn’t convinced, no one else will be.”_

 _He leaned his forehead against the window. He hardly noticed the cold. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew Cowley was right, but the cost of it was almost too much to bear. He knew what Bodie’s reaction would be. Lying was not a forgivable offence. Bodie would be badly hurt by this, he knew that. Honesty is an integral part of their relationship, loyalty too. Bodie would never forgive him for betraying Cowley and CI5 and yet that is exactly the ruse that Cowley was setting up._

 _And what about the personal side of things...things that Cowley didn’t know about. After many stops and starts, they had finally settled into an exclusive relationship. Cowley’s plans would make it seem to Bodie that Ray had broken that fragile trust._

 _“I know it will be difficult,” Cowley’s tone softened, “but think of the good you’ll be doing, man. Think of the drugs and guns that won’t be on the streets.”_

 _Ray closed his eyes and nodded. He agreed; the good he’d be doing by going through with this mission should out-weigh his personal loss. But, God, it hurt. He’d just have to believe in Bodie; he’d have to believe that his partner would forgive him once the op was over and he could explain it all. He could only hope that Bodie would still trust him enough to forgive him._

Yeah, Cowley’s plan worked exactly the way the old man intended. Cowley had led Anson to discover some of the details of Doyle’s tearaway youth: run-ins with the police, fights, truancy, drugs. With the help of some staged photographs and Anson _accidently_ spotting him hanging around the cottages on Hampstead Heath, word quickly spread that Doyle was queer. The stories had grown as they spread and Ray had found himself kept on the outside of his squad mates’ activities. He wasn’t quite shunned, but it was made clear that he was no longer trusted and that his company was no longer welcome.

The mission to infiltrate MI6 worked brilliantly. When word leaked out that Doyle was no longer one of Cowley's favorites, Willis made Doyle an offer. Ray put him off for a bit so as not to appear too desperate, and then he had given in. He was now Cowley's 'mole' in MI6.

Cowley had discovered that the mole in CI5 was a lowly records clerk. With their man inside uncovered, MI6 was more than happy to take Ray on as a replacement, despite the rumours that were circulating. Ray settled into his role as a spy for both agencies, still officially with CI5 while working covertly for Willis. Cowley pulled some strings with the Ministry and was able to get Doyle involved when MI6, using their own contacts, set up an undercover operation. His role was to infiltrate a group of ex-Met police officers involved in the drugs for guns game. Ray reported all this faithfully to his CI5 boss, who kept the details of the undercover secret.

Cowley had even insisted on the public break with Bodie. The messy scene at the “Hound and Hare” had destroyed the partnership, both the professional and personal. A bitter laugh escaped him. Both guilt and sadness filled him as he recalled the final act. They’d been partners for eight years, lovers for two. But Cowley had been ruthless in divulging Ray’s past. Things that even Bodie hadn’t known became public knowledge. Some of it surprised and upset his partner. But Bodie would never ask for an explanation and Ray wasn’t offering one. Their relationship had begun to show the strain. They had both tried to ignore it, so they could keep working together.

The blow-up in the “Hound and Hare” ended everything except the anger. He couldn’t remember how it started. They both had said hateful things to and about each other. He had been sorry afterward, for both the insults and the public airing of things better left private, but he knew they were both too angry, too proud and too stubborn to offer apologies.

He set his empty glass down and tried to shake off the disquiet that surrounded him. He knew his next move would confirm Bodie’s belief that he’d turned, and that rankled too. He was surprised at the sudden anger he felt over the fact that Bodie did believe it. But that wasn’t fair to Bodie. Hadn’t he set things up so Bodie would believe, had to believe? He’d distanced himself from Bodie to create the doubt in his partner’s mind. He had no right to be angry that Bodie had, albeit unwittingly, followed the plan.

He picked up the phone and called Cowley’s private number.

“It’s on, I’m leaving,” he said quietly. There was silence on the other end of the line and then a deep sigh.

“I’m sorry, 4.5…”

"Don't!" Ray interrupted angrily. "I knew it had to be done. I agreed to this. I'm calling to let you know that I'm heading out, starting the next phase." both men were silent. The touch of compassion in the Scottish brogue had almost destroyed his will to continue the op and tickled the seed of something like doubt deep inside him.

“Ach, Doyle. We’ve been over this many times. I know you want to tell Bodie. But it will be best if Bodie believes you’ve turned. If your partner believes it, so will everyone else.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand he nodded to himself.

“Yeah, it probably is best that Bodie doesn’t know. That way he’s protected from any fallout if this goes wrong. With our partnership broken, no one will think he had anything to do with it.”

More silence. Then Cowley spoke again.

“I’m assuming that my choice of Murphy as your backup is acceptable.”

Doyle heard the dry sarcasm in the voice and ignored it.

“Yes. I told you I won’t do this as an operation ‘Susie’, not after the Molnar mess.”

Cowley didn’t respond to the accusation in the words.

“I’ll be in contact when I can.” He hung up, oddly pleased with himself for not slamming the handset into place.

Taking a deep breath he pulled his ID out of his wallet and laid it on the desk next to his CI5 issued gun. He had two others in his holdall, two that CI5 knew nothing about. He wanted to write a quick goodbye to Bodie, to explain in case it all went wrong, but he thought better of it. Cowley would have his guts for garters if he found out. But he wasn’t sure he trusted Cowley to explain it all correctly. Cowley would sacrifice anyone for Queen and country. He picked up a photo of the two of them, and read the typed note attached. The words were designed to make his actions seem more real to his partner, to give a reason for the betrayal that Bodie might actually believe. He hoped the old man was right and that it would be enough. He looked down at the photo. He felt an ache grow deep inside himself. He hated doing this, hated the thought of the anguish he was causing. He angrily crumpled the photo and the note and pitched them into the bin in the kitchen. He picked up his battered holdall and left CI5 Agent 4.5 behind.

 **Chapter Two**

Bodie closed and locked the door to his flat and leaned his forehead against the cool wood of the frame. Images raced through his bewildered mind. A bleeding Ray Doyle slumped on the floor of the “Hound and Hare”; Ray, that last morning, wantonly stretching naked in the jumble of sheets in the middle of their bed; Doyle’s face closing as Bodie asked him to deny the charges being brought against him; Ray’s eyes reflecting all the love they felt for each other as he’d kissed him after they had made love that last night. There had been a strange intensity to their lovemaking, almost sadness, almost like a goodbye. He’d felt Ray tremble in his embrace. He had gently lifted the curly head from its resting place on his shoulder and asked what was wrong. Ray had replied “Nothin’” but there had been a hint of sorrow in the green eyes. He remembered the feeling that kept creeping up on him that there was something wrong, the feeling that Ray had been slowly pulling away from him. At the time he’d had no idea why. Had Ray known that this was all going to blow up on him? None of it made sense. There were too many contradicting details. Had the isolation Ray had suffered really caused him enough pain to make him turn? Had he played a part in Ray’s disillusionment? Had his own reaction to what he’d learned of Ray’s past pushed his partner over some unseen edge? He replayed the scenes from earlier in the day...

 _He was almost to Cowley’s door when he heard the raised voices. Ray was shouting at Cowley, but Bodie hadn’t been able to make out the words. He reached for the door but it was jerked out of his hand. Ray stormed out. Bodie was startled by the look on Ray’s face. It was an odd mixture of anger and fear, not an expression he’d seen on that face before._

 _“Been suspended,” Ray croaked out as he brushed past Bodie in the outer office. “Cowley wants to see you.”_

 _Bodie was torn between finding out what Cowley wanted and going after Ray. He reached out and caught Ray’s arm._

 _“Meet me at the “Hound and Hare”, yeah?” He didn’t let go until Ray sullenly nodded his agreement. “Doyle, I...”_

 _“3.7, my office now.” Cowley’s voice was as angry as Ray’s had been._

 _“Later, mate.” Bodie entered the controller’s office. Thirty minutes later, he wished he hadn’t._

He knew he had to talk to Ray, so he had suggested meeting at the “Hound and Hare”, hoping that if they were able to sit and talk, alone, they could straighten things out, save their partnership. It hadn’t worked out that way. Ray did not deny the charges about to be placed against him, that he was involved in selling drugs with his old colleagues from the Drug Squad. He just sat there listening to Bodie recite all the condemning evidence against him. Evidence that Cowley finally felt was strong enough to warrant an arrest and that was being presented to Scotland Yard and the Minister as the two CI5 agents sat in the pub, the evidence that Cowley had shown Bodie earlier this morning. There were pictures of Ray exchanging packages with Sean Mullins, a known drug dealer. There was a tape taken from the phone of Mullin’s partner. The phone was bugged by the Yard and it had caught Ray unaware. The tape held Ray’s voice setting up a meet to exchange heroin for cash. Bodie was appalled when he heard it. How could he have been so wrong about Ray? His Ray would never do the things that this man was doing. It didn’t make sense.

The scene in the pub and the confrontation that ended with Ray bleeding on the floor followed quickly after...

He shook off the memories and pushed himself away from the door. He went to the drinks cabinet. Anger consumed him. He picked up the glass Ray favoured, a souvenir from a dirty weekend in Wales, and thre it against the wall. It shattered along with his control. No wway he was going to shed a tear over that traitor. He sank down on the settee with the bottle of scotch and tried to make some sense of what he’d learned today and what he knew about his partner.

It seemed impossible that Ray would be involved in the drug trade. He hated the pushers and had even shown sympathy at times to users they’d encountered. Hell, he’d sacrificed his career with the Met to turn in crooked cops. So how could he have joined with them now? But Ray had also admitted having used drugs a few times when he lived on the streets. He’d even sold some to get money for food. Which was the real Doyle? It was said that a person’s character was developed by their early experiences. Bodie laughed at himself. He was starting to think like Ross. But Ray had had a rough childhood, leading him to do things that the grown up Doyle professed to abhor.

His own experiences as a youth had led him to the mercenaries and made him a killer. He was still a killer. So maybe Ray hadn’t changed that much either. He took a deep pull from the bottle and his thoughts turned in a different direction. How had he been fooled by Ray all this time? They’d been so close, shared so many things. But there were secrets still between them, doors they’d never even knocked on, let alone dared to open. He recalled conversations about Ray’s time with the police when Ray had adroitly changed the subject rather than answer Bodie’s questions. And there was Ray’s skill at going undercover. He was very good at living a lie, Ray was. Is that all their partnership had been to Ray? An undercover op…a lie? He shook his head in denial. No, Ray loved him. He was sure of that. He sighed in frustration. He couldn’t come to terms with this. Ray a traitor? Even having seen the evidence he couldn’t believe it. There had to be more to this.

His RT buzzed.

“3.7”

“Bodie, Alpha One wants you to meet him at 4.5’s flat immediately.”

“Something happen to Doyle?” He was surprised by the concern in his own voice.

“Don’t know details 3.7. Cowley wants you there yesterday.”

“Understood. 3.7 out.”

Walking into Ray’s flat, he found himself ensconced in the middle of chaos. There were at least a dozen agents taking the place apart. Ray’s records and books had been pulled off the shelves and were thrown haphazardly around the room. His paintings had been removed from their frames and tossed aside. His model soldiers were knocked off their table and had rolled around on the floor. It upset Bodie to see their destruction. He knew how much they had meant to Ray, a gift from his first partner in the Met, Syd. A cold finger of fear speared down his spine. He headed for Ray’s bedroom. Agents were already there, stripping the bed and pulling clothes out of the cupboards and wardrobes. Bodie went to the bedside cabinet and opened the drawer. He sighed silently in relief. The box of “toys” he and Ray sometimes indulged in was gone. So was the small jewelery box where Ray kept the gifts Bodie had given him: the silver bracelet, the gold chain necklace, the watch with the humorous but incriminating inscription. But where were they? Had Ray taken them and if so why? Was he trying to protect Bodie even as he betrayed him? Things were making even less sense.

“Oi, Anson? You guys take anything out of here yet?” Bodie called to the agent going through Ray’s cupboard.

“No. We just started in here. Cowley’s in the kitchen. He was looking for you.”

“Why are we here? What the hell is going on?”

“Better see the old man. But you should know, Doyle’s done a runner.”

“Doyle’s done a runner.” The words hit him hard, shattering the precious hope that a terrible mistake had been made, that Ray Doyle was still the man that Bodie had believed, no _needed_ , him to be. It raised those doubts again about how well he really knew Ray.

“Bodie!” Cowley’s voice penetrated his thoughts.

He made his way through the detritus of his partner’s life, now spread across the flat’s floor. “Sir?”

“Ach, 3.7, this is bad stuff. How is it you didn’t see it?”

“Doyle’s always been the best at undercover, sir.” Bodie hid behind his mask of indifference. He didn’t want anyone to see the confusion and sorrow he was feeling, but he knew that he couldn’t hide it from Cowley. “I didn’t sense anything that would lead to this.” And _this_ felt so wrong to him. He was missing something, he was sure of it. Doyle _was_ good at undercover work, and Cowley was well known for his propensity for triple think, could this be... He snapped back to attention when Cowley spoke.

“Aye. We’ll talk that over later. Do you see anything here that might be a lead, give us an idea of what the man was planning?”

“No sir. Doyle is too good at his job for that. There won’t be anything to find.”

“Right then,” the Controller turned around. “6.2, you’ll drive 3.7 and I back to headquarters. Bodie is right; we’ll not find anything of use here.” Bodie turned to see Murphy stuffing kitchen rubbish back into the bin and watched him put a crumpled bit of paper in his pocket. Murphy caught his eye but remained silent. Bodie swallowed his questions. The three men made their way to the car.

 **Chapter Three**

Ray Doyle found himself staring at his own image on the cover of the newspaper being read by the man across the aisle. The headline practically screamed at him. “CI5 Agent Accused of Drug Trafficking. Nationwide Search Underway”. He didn’t think he was in danger of being recognised. He’d cut his hair short and coloured the auburn curls a dark brown. A hat covered those changes. Not shaving left him with rough stubble on his chin and a thin moustache. The aviator shades he was wearing hid his sharp green eyes. He no longer wore the skin-tight jeans and t-shirt. They had been replaced with baggy cords and a fisherman’s jumper. Still, the paper left him uneasy.

He knew he was doing the right thing. He was doing his job, protecting the innocents from the rotten apples of society. But it upset him to know that his friends and co-workers would see this and believe it. He and Cowley had set it up to be that way. It had to be that way for the operation to work and for Bodie to be protected from the fallout if it didn’t. But he regretted the misery he was leaving in his wake, especially hurting Bodie. There was no doubt that he had done that. The scene at the pub was all the proof he needed. Bodie’s retreating back and hunched shoulders showed all the betrayal he felt without Bodie having to say the words smouldering in those blue eyes. Ray had wounded him deeply. _“I hope, when this is all finished, he’ll give me a chance to make things right, to explain,”_ Ray thought again as he closed his eyes and let the gentle motion of the train on its rails lull him into sleep.

The train pulled into the station at Blackpool. Ray’s contact, Brady, a long-time grass who also had ties to MI6, had set up a meet at the "Flamingo" for later that evening. That gave him time to settle in his room and look around the town. He’d never been to Blackpool. He walked slowly up Charnley Road looking for his boarding house. The street was quiet this time of year. In summer the beach crowds filled the shops and restaurants, but here in January the streets were mostly empty.

The cold penetrated his jacket and made his bruised ribs ache. He hesitated to take the pain-killers he’d picked-up after his tussle with Bodie. He wanted to be alert now that he was in-place. The meet tonight would determine how successful his and Cowley’s planning had been. Through his undercover work with MI6 he’d learned of this meeting and a few discretely placed words and favours had garnered Ray an invitation. Brady had spread the word that Ray was not what he seemed: that he’d been using his position with CI5 to make contact with gun runners and drug lords and that he was looking for new opportunities.

The stories being told about him grated on his self-worth. He was surprised at how easily people who knew him believed that the charges and rumours were true. If he was honest with himself, it hurt, especially when he thought about Bodie. “ _Leave off,”_ he chided himself. There would be time enough later to deal with that. He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted now. But there were people who were happy to believe that Raymond Doyle had finally fallen. Several of the men he was meeting tonight had escaped the investigation of the drug squad that he’d instigated. He could only imagine their pleasure at seeing the high and mighty Ray Doyle knocked off his pedestal.

He found his lodgings, a comfortable looking three story dwelling turned into a boarding house. He checked in as Roy Duncan, not taking any chances that the name of the London fugitive, Raymond Doyle had beat him to town. The middle-aged woman who ran the place, Ruth, took him to his room at the back of the first floor. She made sure he had all the towels and blankets he needed and wished him a pleasant stay. He thanked her and locked the door after she left. He threw off his jacket and trainers and lay down on the bed. His ribs and jaw were aching. He had four hours before the meet and a kip might do him some good. He shut his eyes to sleep, but images of Bodie paraded behind his closed lids. He kept seeing the anger and pain in the face bending over him as he lay on the floor of the “Hound and Hare”, kept watching Bodie walk away from him, kept feeling his own heart break. He sat up quickly, cursing, and threw his pillow across the room. He gave up all thought of sleep and turned to the files Cowley had passed to him detailing the histories of the men he was to meet that evening.

 **Chapter Four**

Cowley was not a happy man. One look at the tense face made Bodie think twice about demanding answers to the questions he still had. He’d let the old man lead this interview.

“What do we know, sir?” Murphy stepped into the uncomfortable silence, surprising both of the other men.

“Raymond Doyle stands accused of using information gathered as a CI5 employee to make contact with and sell guns and information to the IRA. It is believed that he has made contact with several men from his drug squad days who are involved with this group. Questions are being asked about how forthcoming he was with the corruption evidence he provided. The police now think that he purposely gave up several colleagues in order to spare these others and himself. His motives for presenting the evidence may not have been as altruistic as originally believed.”

“But sir,” Murphy interrupted, “are we really going to believe all this? We’ve known and worked with Ray for years. This all seems so unreal, the behaviour so unlike Doyle…”

“He took off,” Bodie interjected, “didn’t stay to defend himself, now did he? When Doyle feels he’s been wronged, he’s not quiet about it. But he didn’t offer up any explanations… he ran.” Bodie’s voice was flat, his face showed no emotion. He was trying hard to cover the confusion and suspicions he felt.

When he had first heard the rumours of Ray's activities he hadn't believed them. But then Ray had started shutting him out, putting distance between them. He'd disappear for hours without explanation. He turned down invitations for drinks and darts after work. He would claim he wanted an early night and then show up at HQ in the morning tired and short tempered. When Bodie would ask what was wrong, Ray told him everything was fine. Ray's refusing to explain finally ignited Bodie's temper. There was a brief row in the restroom, pushes both physical and verbal that left them both seething, and underneath Bodie was in pain, confused by Ray's actions. Cowley had re-teamed Bodie and Ray went solo.

When he’d met Ray in the pub the man had been distant, closed. That wasn’t like Ray. Ray had always been an open book to him, but he couldn’t read the man he had met in the "Hound and Hare". He’d seemed surprised when Bodie had hit him. But the biggest proof of Ray’s guilt was that he had run. Bodie couldn’t forgive that.

“Aye, he did,” Cowley agreed. Was that a note of sadness Bodie heard in the words? Funny that, Cowley wasn’t one to let his emotions show. Anger was expected, Doyle had betrayed CI5 and Cowley personally. But to Bodie, the sadness seemed directed elsewhere… for him maybe? Bodie couldn’t let those kinds of thoughts weaken the walls he was rebuilding around his heart. He’d let Doyle in and look where that had got him. There was no place inside him for softness anymore; the single feeling he had room for was anger. And the outlet for that was paying Ray back; he needed to make Ray suffer too.

“So what’s next, sir?” Bodie wanted to get both their minds back on business.

“We’re going to attack this from the other side. The money from the drugs is purported to be used for the purchase of guns and to finance a Member of Parliament’s re-election campaign. No surprises there. You and Murphy will be checking with your contacts, and Doyle’s as well, to see if you can find the buyers. Then we’ll set up an undercover to get one or both of you into the gang. Your experience as a mercenary should come in handy here, Bodie.”

Spending the day talking to the human rats of London’s streets didn’t improve Bodie’s mood. He tossed his keys on the table in the rest room as Murphy followed him in. At least the day hadn’t been a total waste. They had gathered some good information and he had secured the help of a former contact. Marty Martell was slippery but he’d always dealt honestly with Bodie. Murphy handed him a mug of tea.

“The more I hear about Ray’s part in all this, the harder it is to believe,” he said.

There was a funny catch to Murphy’s voice. Bodie had noticed that Murphy was slow to condemn Doyle, offering up excuses for his aberrant behaviour. Had there been something going on there? He laughed at his own insecurity. He and Ray had been living in each other’s back pockets. There was no room there for anyone else. “ _Especially not in Doyle’s jeans,_ ” the thought brought with it a wave of affection that he quickly smothered. But that wasn’t true was it? There had been room for betrayal. He grunted a response to Murphy’s comment.

“Right.” Murphy looked at him with something Bodie read as sympathy. He wanted no part of it. Before he could react Murphy said “I’ll fill Cowley in on what we found. Be right back.” Murphy left the rest room as Anson, Jax and Susan came in.

Bodie sat silently drinking his tea remembering previously shared drinks in this room, hoping the guilt he felt at revealing things from Ray’s past didn’t show. He had exposed some of Ray’s secrets and that had been enough to start some of the stories that led to Ray’s being ostracised. He had done it as payback for the hurt Doyle had caused with his unexplained withdrawal from their relationship. He remembered winding Anson up after the wrangle in the restroom...

 _“So what do you mean you weren’t surprised about Doyle?” Anson pressed. “He was your bloody partner for eight years! You can’t expect us to believe that you worked with a man whose loyalties you questioned all that time.”_

 _“If you knew more about him, you’d understand. There was more to old Raymond than he let on. Quite the tearaway in his younger days, he was.” Bodie shrugged. “Then on to art school, the Met, the Yard; he changes his colours quite easily to fit the role he’s playin’.”_

 _Anson scoffed. “What are you on about Bodie? You make him sound like a sodding chameleon!”_

 _“Well, in fact that’s what he was. A damn good undercover man, right? Only we didn’t know he was playin’ undercover all along.”_

 _“Playing under your covers you mean, don’t you, petal?” Anson fluttered his eyelashes and drew a laugh from the others in the room._

 _“Not mine, but play he did.” Bodie’s face flushed at the lie. “Our boy has a history of swinging both ways.”_

 _“Bodie.” Murphy had entered the room and put a hand on Bodie's shoulder, shaking his head. “Leave it.”_

 _“No, Murph. Why should I protect him and his reputation, or what’s left of it?” He turned to the rest of the room. “Raymond bloody Doyle was a rent boy before he made it into the Met. Turned tricks in Derby and London. Still frequented a couple places in Soho. He told me one time he had even sold some weed, to feed himself. He’s simply returning to old habits now. Cats don’t change their stripes. I’ll bet…”_

 _“Doyle a prossie, no way!” Anson gasped._

 _“Oh yeah. Where do you think he got that broken face, hm? An unsatisfied customer, wasn’t it?” Bodie stopped and drew in a sharp breath at the sting of self-reproach his words brought. That story was Ray’s secret and not his to tell. Ray had confided in him after an obbo gone bad, deep in the night, deep in a bottle of scotch. It had left them both shaken._

 _Murphy had grabbed Bodie by the back of his jacket collar and hauled him out of the rest room. He pushed Bodie up against the wall. “What the hell are you doing?”_

 _Bodie shook himself free. “What do you care, Murphy? After what he’s done, Doyle deserves whatever he gets. I’m not going to sugar-coat his past. It’s relevant here. He’s just reverted to form.”_

 _“You know that’s not true. You’re angry. He hurt you and you’re striking back. Ray Doyle was a good friend to you...more than a friend. Remember that, not the things he had to do to survive. Your past isn’t so pure either, is it old son?” Murphy sneered._

 _Bodie was confused. “Why are you defending him? You saw the pictures, heard the tapes… how can you defend him?”_

 _Murphy took a step back. “Things aren’t always what they seem Bodie. There are reasons for everything. Think before you throw everything away.” Bodie stood silently while he watched Murphy walk away..._

The memory left him feeling remorseful. But why should it bother him now to have revealed Ray’s past. It was all true, wasn’t it? And Ray had betrayed him, why should he feel remorse at returning the favour? As far as Bodie was concerned, there was nothing to think about. Doyle had lied to him, probably had been lying for years. And if Ray had lived a lie in his work, what did that say about his real feelings for Bodie? Was that a sham as well? If he was honest with himself, and he really didn’t want to be, he couldn’t convince himself that Ray Doyle didn’t love him. The depth of feeling they had for each other couldn’t be faked.

 _They lay tangled together while the rain drummed softly on the roof overhead. Ray stretched languidly and nuzzled Bodie’s neck and shoulder._

 _“This is what heaven must be, Bodie.”_

 _Bodie put a hand behind Ray’s neck, fingers playing with the soft curls. He rested his forehead against Ray’s._

 _“As close as the two of us are likely to get, sunshine.” He tucked Ray’s head under his chin._

 _Ray sighed and settled closer._

 _“Never expected to find this for meself...especially not in your toffee-nosed arms!”_

 _“Find what?” Bodie asked tipping Ray’s face up so he could see his eyes._

 _“Love, acceptance...all of it.”_

 _“You only had to look, Angelfish. It was always there, waiting for you.”_

 _“Always?”_

 _“Well, maybe not at the beginning,” Bodie poked Ray in the side. “ It took you a bit of time to get used to me...all this perfection put you off a bit at the start.” He tickled exposed ribs._

 _“Prat.”_

 _Ray settled again, his lips pressed softly against Bodie’s. “I love you Bodie...more than anything...”_

So what had happened to make Ray…? No, he wasn’t going to torture himself this way. Ray had gone over to the other side. The evidence was clear. But somehow, it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t Ray. He couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that things were not what they seemed. Ray knew when he made the choice to join with the drug dealers that he’d be leaving Bodie behind. So, in Bodie’s mind, that meant Ray hadn’t valued their relationship. He’d used Bodie. And now he was gone. But Bodie wasn’t done with him yet, no way. He was going to find out what was going on and Ray Doyle was going to pay for the wounds he’d inflicted.Bodie promised himself that.

“3.7,” Cowley’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “My office. Now.”

“Sir.”

Bodie sat down in the chair in front of Cowley’s desk. From the corner of his eye he noted a figure leaning against the file cabinet, Ray’s spot. He started, but realised it was Murphy.

“What’s going on, sir? Is there news?” Bodie tried to maintain a disinterested tone.

“Aye, Bodie, there’s news.” Cowley pushed a file folder toward him. He didn’t move to take it.

“Go on.” Cowley nodded at the file.

He reached over and picked it up. Inside was a photograph. He recognised it as the crumpled bit of paper he’d seen Murphy pull from Doyle’s bin. He drew in a sharp breath. The photo was of him and Ray. Judging by the location, it had been taken after the disastrous Melton case. Ray had been held hostage and most of CI5 had given him up for dead. When Ray had staggered out into the alley behind the pub, Bodie had forgotten all about discretion in his need to reaffirm that they were both still alive and he had wrapped the exhausted man up in his arms. The embrace was fierce, their arms locked tight around each other. A discrete cough from Jax had broken them apart, but not soon enough.Someone else had caught them out.

There was a note with the photo:

“Good looking bloke in your arms, Doyle. They say a picture’s worth a thousand words. What’s he worth to you? We’ll be in touch.”

Bodie dropped the picture back on Cowley’s desk. He head was spinning. Now he had a reason for Ray’s betrayal.

Someone was blackmailing Ray. Ray was protecting… whom? Was he merely trying to protect himself? Bodie was still angry enough to believe the motivation was selfishness. But no, Ray wouldn’t care if people knew about his… tendencies. He almost flaunted his sexuality. His posing, tight jeans and provocative attitude appeared to invite all comers. Even Cowley had used that to advantage in several undercover ops. No, Ray hadn’t given in to the blackmailers for his own sake.

“Why? I don’t…” He hadn’t realised he’d spoken out loud.

“For you and for CI5,” Cowley answered. “He knew what this could do to the organisation if it were made public. Better that he take the fall alone as a traitor than pull you and CI5 down with him.”

Bodie sat stunned. He knew Ray cared for him, but this was too much, it seemed too easy. It didn’t sit right with him. There was more to this.

 **Chapter Five**

It had started to rain at dusk. The wind was cold. Ray made his way through the wet streets dreading the meeting to come. He knew that once he took this step he was committed. ‘ _Should be committed anyway for takin’ this on._ ’ He smiled grimly to himself. Cowley wanted him to abandon the undercover after he had names and meeting places. Get the information and get out, he’d ordered. But there was no backing out. The stakes were too high. The chance to bring down the highest level of corruption in the government was not to be missed. The amount of heroin and the number of weapons to be unleashed on the London streets could not be allowed to happen. No matter the cost to him. And the cost was high. He’d seen it clearly in Bodie’s eyes when he’d watched his partner turn away from him. Nothing he could do about that now. He needed to keep himself focused on his job. There’d be plenty of time for regrets later. He allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, his seeing this operation through to the end would mitigate some of Bodie’s anger, would help make Bodie understand why he’d made the decision he had, would allow Bodie to forgive him.

As he approached the pub, he saw two men walking towards the door and thought he heard a voice he vaguely remembered. He stepped into the shadows at the side of the building. He was pretty sure it was Paul Smythe, a man he had occasionally had contact with in the Met. A second voice belonged to Mullins. He had already met him through Brady.

“...how can you be sure of him? He’s betrayed mates before. Hell, he was an under-fuckin’-cover copper!” It was Mullins who voiced the doubts.

“Oi! Watch the copper comments!” Smythe spoke with a hint of amusement. “Brady and Sloan have both vouched for him. You trust them, don’t you?”

Mullins grunted his assent.

“We’ll keep a close watch on him...”

The voices faded as the two men entered the pub.

He waited a few minutes and then pulled open the brass-trimmed door and entered the bar. It felt good to get out of the cold wind. He loosened his scarf. Eyes adjusting to the light, he looked around. The bar was smoke-filled and loud. Brady met him at the bar and took him to a table in the back. Six men sat drinking and playing cards. He wondered, not for the first time, exactly what kind of connections MI6 and Willis in particular, had with this group to get him so readily accepted. He recognised three of them. They were former detectives with the Met. Brady made introductions and Mullins invited him to sit. Ray knew the man introduced as ‘Sloan’ to be the MI6 deep cover operative who had been with Smythe for a long time.

After some small talk, Smythe, one of Ray’s former co-workers, asked bluntly “So why’d you do it, Doyle? I’ve often wondered. Why did you turn your colleagues in?”

Ray shot him an angry look. “Had to save meself, didn’t I? It was getting too close. I figured if I sacrificed some of them, if I told, I’d be clear. And I was.” He thought he’d choke on the falsehoods, but after lying to Bodie, this was easy.

“You’re a cold bastard, Doyle.” Smythe laughed. “Glad you’re on our side this time.”

“Keep up your end of the deal and we won’t have any problems,” he replied tersely.

The guns were already on their way. The ship bringing them in would arrive next Tuesday. That gave him about a week to get things set up. He hadn’t been told the name of the ship. He still needed to earn their trust. His job was to sell the heroin and have the money ready for the guns’ purchase. The heroin was coming from Smythe and his former Met associates. They still had contacts on the force and were getting information on drug busts and beating the police to the score. He was supposed to take part in the raids. In fact, he was informed, there was one on that night and he was expected to go along.

“Are you tooled up?” Smythe asked.

“Yeah, always,” he replied.

“Still holdin’ that lofty moral attitude about using a shooter?” There was derision in the tone.

“Not when it’s deserved.” He gave Smythe a narrow eyed glance. “Don’t worry. I’ll do my part.”

The drug sale was to take place in an abandoned warehouse near the docks. He and four of the men from the pub drove in silence to the address supplied by Smythe’s Met squad contact. They would meet a few additional men there. The deal was supposed to go down at midnight. Smythe and his crew arrived at ten thirty. The warehouse was cold and empty. They holed up inside to review their plan and then spread out to cover all the access points. He found himself with Smythe on a scaffold above the main door.

“Not sure of me yet, sunshine?” he scoffed.

Smythe snorted, “Should I be?”

At ten until midnight the two groups set to exchange the drugs for cash arrived separately. The drug runners came in through the door he and Smythe were watching. The money came in through the back. When the two groups met in the centre of the warehouse, Smythe gave the signal to move. He called out from their perch above the warehouse floor.

“Everybody stay still. We’re merely here to relieve you of your ill gotten gains.”

One of the drug gang made a move to draw a weapon. A shot rang out from across the warehouse, barely missing the man’s boot.

“Let’s not try that again, mate,” Smythe called out. “Set your packages down on the floor in front of you and step back. No need for anyone to get hurt here.” Ray could see three of Smythe’s men make their way to the centre of the warehouse. Smythe continued, “We’re actually doin’ ya all a favour. The coppers will be here in about twenty minutes. If you do as you’re told, you’ll all avoid Her Majesty’s hospitality.” Ray scanned the warehouse from his spot on the catwalk. A movement to the left caught his eye. It seemed that several men held themselves back from the main group. No honour among thieves. He spotted a man with a gun trained on Smythe. There was no time to think, and he let a shot go, taking the man down. Smythe turned in surprise. Chaos broke out on the warehouse floor.

“Cover me!” Smythe called out as he ran down the stairs.

The fight didn’t last long. Smythe’s men were well trained and excellent marksmen. Those gang members not taken down by bullets ran. Most of the drugs and money were left behind as they scattered.

Smythe gathered his men. “We need to be gone quickly. The cops will be here soon. Where’s Doyle?”

“Over there.” Mullins tipped his head toward the far corner of the warehouse.

Smythe reached him as he was turning over the body of the man he’d shot. But it wasn’t a man, it was a boy. No more than sixteen. Ray felt his stomach tighten.

“See you haven’t lost your touch, mate,” Smythe patted him on the shoulder. “One shot through the chest. Impressive!” Ray stood suddenly and knocked the other man’s hand away.

“Nothin’ to be proud of, killin’ a kid,” he retorted coldly.

“Was him or me. I’m happy with your choice.” Smythe smiled coldly as he met Ray’s eyes. “I see you still have that conscience of yours. Surprises me, knowing the things you’ve done. Don’t know how you live with yourself as guilty as you feel.” Smythe laughed at him.

“Fuck off,” Ray hissed as he walked away.

They regrouped back at the pub, this time settling in the back room. They took inventory of the drugs and cash they’d acquired.

“You have a buyer for the heroin?” Mullins asked Ray.

“Yeah. The deal is on for tomorrow,” Ray said. It had been Brady who had been instrumental in setting that up.

“Good. Meet me in the park by the beach around one to pick up the goods. You’ll bring the cash back here tomorrow evening. Smythe or I will be here after seven.”

“Fine. If you don’t need me anymore tonight I’m for bed. I’m knackered.”

“Killing takes it out of a man, eh Doyle?” Smythe was still pushing him.

He felt his face redden but bit back on the anger. “You might try sayin’ thank-you. I did save your hide tonight.” He turned his back on the room, raised a hand over his shoulder and muttered goodnight.

He knew that someone would be sent to follow him. He waved off a taxi, deciding he needed to walk off some of the adrenaline still running through his system. He pulled a cigarette from his jacket pocket along with his lighter. He frowned at himself. He’d started smoking again when this assignment had got underway. Bodie wouldn’t like him smoking. Bodie. He dropped the cigarette on the ground, crushing it beneath his boots. Maybe he’d stop for a drink. What he really needed, he admitted reluctantly to himself, was Bodie.

Bodie had always been there after a night like tonight, when the guilt of taking a life hammered him flat. It was ironic in a way that Bodie was the one who could settle him after a fiasco like this. Everyone thought he was the moral compass for the pair of them, what with his copper’s background as opposed to Bodie’s mercenary past. But he had learned that Bodie had his own code of honour and he followed it scrupulously. Bodie knew how to calm him, knew what to say, what not to say and when to finally gather him up in strong arms and simply hold him. He missed his partner. He hoped that somehow, when this operation was all over, he’d be able to rest in those strong arms again.

He stopped in a pub near his boarding house. The man following him stayed outside. He recognised him as the MI6 undercover operative. He thought about inviting the man for a drink to see if he could get any information out of him, but decided he’d rather be alone. Two whiskys did nothing to improve his mood so he decided to call it a night. He made his way to the boarding house, moving quietly so as not to wake the other guests. He showered and then peered out the window to see if his shadow was still there. He was.

He turned off the bedside lamp and crawled into bed. Sleep was a long time coming. He kept seeing the face of the young man he’d killed. “Let it go.” He heard his partner’s voice in his head. Bodie always told him he felt things too deeply, but how could he not? How could you blithely dismiss taking a life? Bodie had an answer for that too. The boy had chosen to be in that warehouse. He knew the risks of what he was doing and accepted his fate, whatever it was. Ray told himself that was all well and good for the boy, but how was he supposed to live with the fact that he, Raymond Doyle, had been that fate?

 **Chapter 6**

Bodie watched as Murphy looked around the bar with a grimace. The air was filled with smoke and the stale smell of the dockworkers coming off their shifts. “You take me to the nicest places Bodie.”

“Nothing but the best for you, sunshine!” Bodie led them to the bar. “What’ll you have?”

“A lager,” looking around, Murphy added, “in a bottle.”

Bodie laughed. “No sense of adventure, mate.” He pushed through the press of bodies at the bar. The music was loud; he had to shout for the bartender to hear him. He felt a slight pressure on his shoulder. A man he recognised as one of Martell’s tipped his head toward a table in the back. Bodie nodded and the man walked away. He and Murphy collected their drinks and made their way through the crowd to the table where Martell sat.

“Marty. Thanks for meeting me,” Bodie grinned.

“Like I really had a choice.” Martell looked Murphy over but asked nothing.

After taking a pull of his lager, Bodie explained what he needed. Martell said nothing for several minutes and then looked into Bodie’s eyes.

“I’m going to have to pull in some pretty big favours to set this up. You’ll owe me for a change, Bodie.” Martell’s smile was predatory.

“Nah, Marty. What are old mates for?”

Martell’s gaze returned to Murphy. “What’s his story?”

“Murphy’s former SAS like me. He’s been in Africa. You can use that to explain our connection to you. Say we’ve severed our SAS connections and have been out of London for a while, working for you in Kenya. That should hold up with you vouching for us.”

“Should do,” Martell agreed. He turned again to Murphy. “What are your specialities?”

Murphy smiled at the euphemism. “Explosives and long-range weaponry.”

Martell grunted. “That will fit with what I have in mind.” He looked at Bodie. “Where’s your curly headed shadow? You don’t usually travel without him.”

Murphy looked surprised at the question, but Bodie wasn’t. He recalled Marty’s unusual interest in Ray the first time they’d met and his partner’s almost immediate dislike of the man. He smiled slightly as he remembered Ray’s thinly veiled comments about Marty’s sexual tendencies. He closed off thoughts of Ray with a shake of his head.

“Things change.” Bodie’s tone invited no further questions.

Martell took pleasure in Bodie’s obvious discomfort. “Too bad. I’ll miss the chance to get up the ratty bastard’s nose.”

The look Bodie gave him brought him back to the business at hand.

“You’re a lucky man, Bodie. It happens that I’ve had word of this particular set up and have been asked for a bit of help. The guns are set to arrive next Tuesday. The transport ship is “The Phantom.” I’ll set you up as weapons expert sent to help unload and inspect them. You’ll then be used to get them to the distribution point. Your contact will be Red Farris. You’ll meet him here tomorrow at noon.”

“Thanks, Marty.”

“No thanks, Bodie. Just remind your boss that he owes me… again.”

Bodie and Murphy rose as one and turned to go, Bodie sending Martell a two-fingered salute on his way out. Martell’s laughter followed them out of the pub.

“You know it might be Ray delivering the money for the gun purchase?” Murphy asked him quietly later that evening. They were discussing their plans as they sat at the bar in the Inn they were staying at.

“Yeah,” he answered, “I hope it is. I want to watch his face as I put the cuffs on him. Might have to rough him up a bit, if he doesn’t come quietly. In fact I’d welcome a little resisting arrest.”

Murphy took in his expressionless face. He had his mask in place, but he knew Murphy saw deeper than that. There was a bit of regret and sadness that still leaked into his eyes. He hadn’t been able to hide it all. He sighed.

“I still don’t understand why he did this, Murph.”

Murphy looked at him with exasperation.

“I know, I know…the photograph, the blackmail…Ray trying to protect me…us. But I can’t sort it all out. What if the photo was a trick too? It’s so unlike the Ray I knew to not talk to me… to keep me in the dark.” Anger replaced the puzzlement in his voice. “I want the chance to get the truth out of him, no matter what it takes.”

“When you get that chance, I hope you’ll listen to what he has to say,” Murphy replied.

 **Chapter Seven**

Sleep hadn’t come easy and what Ray did get was filled with nightmares. He kept seeing the boy he’d killed, and as the visions played over and over in his mind the boy’s face was slowly replaced by Bodie’s. That jarred him awake, shaking and sweating. There was no going back to sleep now, no matter how tired he was. He didn’t want to relive that last image. He got up stiffly, his ribs feeling a bit better than they had yesterday. He dressed. His stomach reminded him that it had been awhile since he’d last acknowledged it. He went downstairs for breakfast.

“Good Morning, Mr Duncan.” Ruth greeted him with a smile that turned into concern. “Didn’t sleep well by the looks of you. Find yourself a seat and I’ll bring out some tea.”

“Thanks.” He dragged out a smile for her. “First night in a new bed, no one ever sleeps well, do they?”

She returned his smile, but he could see that she didn’t believe him.

He made his way to a table by the window and casually looked out. He still had his shadow. He wasn’t surprised. He ordered toast and eggs when Ruth brought his tea. He absently flipped through the paper she’d left on the table while he ate. He thought about the next phase of the operation with a bit of trepidation. His meet was set for two this afternoon. He wanted a chance to look over the location of the exchange before the deal was done. He had a bad feeling about the way things were going down and he’d always trusted his instincts.

 _“Wish I had Bodie to bounce this off…”_ He choked back a bitter laugh. _“Best not think about that, mate,”_ he rebuked himself. _“That option doesn’t exist right now, maybe never again.”_ He closed his mind to the feeling of loss. It wasn’t going to help to dwell on what was done. He needed to stay focused on the job.

He left the boarding house and made his way to the abandoned shop that was the site of the exchange. He kept an eye on the man following him. Unease settled across the back of his neck. The shop had sold books. He didn’t like the vulnerability he felt looking at the rows and rows of tall empty bookcases that provided too many places to hide, too many places for an ambush. He would not have picked a place like this for a meet, but it hadn’t been left up to him. He looked around, memorising the layout. The front of the shop was large windows, many broken. There was a counter along the far wall and behind it were stairs leading down. He made his way slowly into the basement. It was mostly empty. There were a few cardboard boxes and a broken table, its legs lying on the floor beneath it. There was no place for an ambusher to hide down here.

He walked back up to the main level and checked again for his shadow outside. The man had stayed on the street corner so he couldn’t see Ray inside the shop. Ray knelt down behind the counter and pulled out a small hand-gun. He fixed it to the underside of the counter with tape. It made him feel a bit better to know that it was there. He walked between the rows of bookshelves, memorising their arrangement, knowing he could never be too prepared.

He checked his watch. It was time to meet up with Mullins and get the heroin for the exchange. He pulled his jacket a bit closer around himself and tightened the scarf around his neck as he walked to the small town park. He sat on a bench and opened the newspaper he had taken from the boarding house. He pretended to read as he listened to the waves strike the beach.

The sound of the water hitting the sand and the salty, brackish smell of the ocean breeze took him back to another beach, another time, months and miles away. He and Bodie had finished up a gruelling operation. While neither one was injured, Cowley had seen that they were at the end of their tether and gave them ten days off. Bodie was like a little kid:

 _“Where are you taking me then?” Bodie rubbed his hands together in gleeful anticipation._

 _“Takin’ you? What makes you think that I want to spend my time off with the likes of you?” He used a smile to soften the words._

 _“Who better?” The arched eyebrow was raised in lascivious intent._

 _“Berk.”_

 _“I’m hurt, Raymond. I don’t think I shall quickly forgive you.” The words were capped with the famous Bodie pout._

 _“Hm, let’s see what I can come up with to beg your highness’s pardon.”_

 _“Don’t think you can,” Bodie’s stare was filled with challenge._

 _“How about a bit of fishing?”_

 _“Where? Don’t need ten days away to fish.”_

 _“Scotland.”_

 _“Scotland! Why there?”_

 _“You’ll have to wait and see.”_

 _“But...”_

 _“No more questions. Go pack a bag. I’ll pick you up in an hour. Off you go.”_

 _“Running all the way, sir,” Bodie gave him a mock salute._

 _Several hours drive found them standing in front of a small shepherd’s croft on a windy beach, miles from the nearest town._

 _“Where did this come from then?” Bodie’s voice held puzzlement and surprise. “Have you been holding out on me, Raymond?”_

 _Ray led Bodie into the main room of the croft. It was divided into a kitchen area and a lounge with a large stone fireplace. Above the main room was a sleeping loft._

 _“Nice. So tell me the story, Ray.”_

 _Ray felt a twinge of sadness and tried to hide it, but he couldn’t hide from Bodie. Bodie had seen._

 _“Ray?” The voice was gentle._

 _“It belonged to my old Met partner, Syd. After he was killed, his wife came up here to live. She passed on about six months ago. They left the place to me. It’s mine now...” He took Bodie’s hands in his own “... or ours...”_

 _Bodie pulled him into a hug, letting him have his moment of sadness and then drew him back to the present. “It’s wonderful, Ray.”_

 _Ray stepped back and punched Bodie lightly on the shoulder, burying thoughts of Syd until later. “Let’s go down to the beach. I have plans for you, old son.”_

 _A short walk had them standing on the shore. There was no one else around. The sky was a cloudless, deep shade of blue. The wind was cool and sea birds played in the thermals._

 _“You want what?” Bodie’s shocked words echoed down the empty beach._

 _“You,” Ray smiled at him, “all the tall, dark and beautiful parts of you.” He unbuttoned Bodie’s jacket and started on his shirt. “Let’s have you now.”_

 _“Here?”_

 _Ray laughed the deep, dark, promising laugh that he knew always went straight to Bodies groin. “Shy?”_

 _“No.” Bodie’s voice was indignant. “I don’t want to share all this beauty with the gulls and fish.” He reached out and gently caressed Ray’s cheek. “It’s solely for you.”_

 _“Then let me see it.” Ray moved to continue unbuttoning Bodie’s shirt._

 _Bodie sighed and grabbed his hands._

 _“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, love,” Ray admonished._

 _“But I’m not a priaprismic exhibitionist like some, now am I?” Bodie’s face lit with amusement._

 _Undeterred, Ray moved back to the buttons._

 _“Doyle, I’ll get sand in me....”_

 _A kiss stopped his words while a hand moved to his belt buckle._

 _“... and sunburn on my...”_

 _“I’ll keep ‘em safe.” Ray gently covered the area in question with his hand._

 _Bodie gasped. “Well that’s all right then.”_

 _Ray pushed him down onto the blanket he’d spread on the sand and they finished undressing each other. Kisses and caresses gave way to other more urgent needs. Ray lost himself in the sound of the waves, the warmth of the sun kissed sand and the beloved body beneath him. Bodie, catching his breath, ran his hands down Ray’s back._

 _“God, this is good Ray.”_

 _He answered Bodie’s words with another promise filled laugh..._

He was pulled out of the past by the sound of approaching footsteps. He looked at his watch. He had been sitting for about thirty minutes. Mullins sat down next to him, placing a cloth holdall between them on the bench. They didn’t speak. Ray’s head remained buried in the newspaper. He heard more footsteps approach the bench and Mullins greet the man who had been Ray’s shadow. The two swapped friendly words and walked off together. Mullins had left the bag on the bench. Ray lowered his newspaper and looked around. He was alone. He picked up the bag and made his way back to the book-shop, the feeling of apprehension growing as he got closer.

There were two men waiting for him inside the shop.

“Shop’s closed. Why are you here?” The taller of the two spoke.

“I’ve been looking for a special book, a limited edition.” He saw them relax a bit when he spoke the correct password.

“That what you brought to trade for it?” The second man asked indicating the holdall Ray held.

“Yeah,” he nodded at them, “You have what I’m looking for?”

“Let’s see what’s in the bag.” The taller man brought an envelope out of his jacket pocket. He handed it to Ray.

Ray opened the bag and tossed it towards the men. “Check it out if you like,” he said. They did.

Business concluded, the two men left. He felt the bit of tension he’d carried all morning drain away. It left him a bit shaky. He was disturbed by the reaction. He couldn’t afford to lose his cool. Bodie had always told him he needed to be cool. Bodie… the tension crept back. He quickly recovered his gun from its hiding place and headed back to his room.

 **Chapter Eight**

“Bodie! That really you mate?” A large, muscular blond man walked toward him.

“Oi! Jackson! Good to see you again!” Bodie clasped the man’s hand in a firm grip. He turned toward Murphy.

“Murphy, this is an old mate of mine. Jackson, my new partner, Murphy.”

The two men shook hands and they all sat down on the bonnet of the jeep he and Murphy had been working on.

“I’d heard you were out of the merc business, Bodie.” Jackson’s eyes held questions. “After the Krivas business they said you’d left Africa and came home.”

“Yeah, I did. I did a stint in the army, then SAS and the Paras. There was a bit of a falling out with the brass. Murphy came to me with an opportunity too good to pass up, so here I am. What about you?”

Jackson sighed. “I was wounded shortly after you left. Took about a year to heal up. I wandered around Europe for a while and met up with Martell. I’ve been working for him ever since. I’ve got some of the old lads from Africa with me too; old loyalties are hard to lose. I needed a bit of extra money and Marty got me this job.”

“Full of generosity our Marty!” Bodie laughed and Jackson joined in. “He helped us get on here too.”

“How about a pint later, Bodie?” Jackson slid off the lorry. “I’ve got a meeting now but I’d like to relive some old times.”

Bodie snorted. “Sure. We’ll likely be here most of the afternoon. Come by when you’re free and we’ll grab a pint and some food.”

As they watched Jackson walk away Murphy spoke. “Keep an eye out, Bodie. I don’t think he bought your story.”

“Jackson? He’s all right, Murph.” Bodie shrugged.

“Still, go carefully with him.” Murphy opened the bonnet and went back to work.

They met up with Jackson and two of his men later that evening at the Imperial, a dark and dirty pub on the docks.

“Like old times this is, eh Bodie?” Jackson raised his pint.

Bodie snorted. “This place looks like Claridge’s compared to some of the joints we frequented in the old days!”

Jackson laughed. “Too right, mate. But sometimes I miss those days, the men, and the camaraderie. We knew we could always count on each other back then, trusted with our lives. Not like now. Loyalty doesn’t mean what it used to.”

Bodie felt Murphy’s eyes on him. He looked down at his drink. “No, it doesn’t.” He said it softly. "The difficulty is not so great to die for a friend, as to find a friend worth dying for."

“Ah, there you go spouting that infernal poetry.” Jackson bumped shoulders with him. “Who is it this time, Keats?”

“Nah, that was Homer.” He raised his glass. “To friends and trust.”

“To loyalty.” Jackson’s glass met Bodie’s and everyone drank.

He and Murphy walked back towards their room.

“You all right, mate?” Murphy asked.

“Yeah. Think I’m going to take a bit of a walk. I’m not ready for a kip yet. I’ll catch up with you later.” Without waiting for a reply, Bodie strode off toward the water. A memory drew him toward the shore.

Settling on a rock on the beach he tipped his head back to look at the stars. He was taken back to another night when he had sat under the sky’s arctic fire. He had not been alone that time...

 _“It’s beautiful, innit?” Ray sighed and huddled closer, while curtains of red, green and blue dropped from the sky. “I’ve always found an odd sense of peace watching the Northern Lights.”_

 _Bodie tightened his arm around his lover’s shoulders and pulled the quilt up higher around them. He passed the bottle of scotch back to Doyle. “I used to watch them from the ship’s deck. They always made whatever trouble I was in seem so small.”_

 _“I’ve tried to paint them, but I just can’t capture their essence,” Ray sighed again._

 _“Old myths say that they’re ancient warriors still battling for what they believe in.”_

 _“So one day it’ll be old George Cowley up there, yeah?” Doyle snorted._

 _“We’ll know when the colours turn to from red and violet to rose and lavender!” That started a fit of the giggles. Bodie pushed Ray down flat on the quilt and started to tickle the quivering ribs. Ray rolled them over and straddled Bodie’s hips. The laughter faded as they stared at each other._

 _“I love you, Bodie.” It was the first time either of them had said it out loud. Ray’s eyes were overly bright._

 _Bodie reached up to caress the damaged cheek. “And I you, Raymond.”_

 _Ray smiled gently and pressed his lips to Bodie’s. The kiss was long and deep, both men aroused._

 _“Oi! Not here, you daft sod. Not again. You’ve already lived out your “From Here to Eternity” fantasy and I’ve still got sand in me nethers.“ He kissed him again. “This time, if you want me, it will have to be in that big old bed back at the croft.”_

 _“Ah, I’d forgotten about your lordship’s delicate....”_

 _“Doyle!”_

 _Ray cackled as he stood up. He held out a hand. “C’mon then, let’s get your charming self ready for bed...”_

A cold feeling crept through him, snapping him out of his memories. The waves had reached his feet.

"Bloody pillock!" He cursed and wasn't sure if it was directed at himself, for wallowing in the past, or at his absent partner, for causing all his confusion. He stood and picked up a stone and hurled it into the surf.

"What the fuck are you playin' at, Ray?" He shouted into the waves. But there was no answer. There was no one there to hear.

 **Chapter Nine**

Over the next few days, Smythe and his crew ran another two sting operations, these outside Blackpool, collecting money and drugs from unsuspecting dealers. Ray had successfully completed two more heroin drops. It was time. The exchange was on, set for tomorrow evening. He waited until well after dark and left the boarding house. He didn’t see his shadow. He took that as proof that Smythe and his crew were satisfied with his commitment. It had helped that Brady and the MI6 operative, Sloan, had spoken for him. His last contact with CI5 had been his call to Cowley the night he went undercover. Up until tonight he had been watched too closely to attempt to contact Murphy to pass on any intel. He needed to risk a call to HQ to let the Controller know what was going on. He found a public phone in a dark corner of a seedy pub and placed an anonymous call to the Blackpool police.

“’ello, luv,” he laid on a thick cockney accent. He told the answering dispatcher about the meet set for tomorrow night and told her to get the information to George Cowley at CI5. Based on her reaction to it he was fairly certain the message would be delivered. He hung up the phone and checked again for a tail. He was still on his own. He knew sleep wasn’t going to visit him that night, so he slid up to the bar and ordered a pint. If all went according to plan the job would be over tomorrow night. He would then be free to try to pick up the pieces of his life, see if they would all fit back together.

Doyle watched the lorries and a jeep pull into the empty warehouse from his spot on the catwalk. The large doors slid shut behind them. It felt like being sealed in. The only illumination came from the emergency lights widely spaced around the ceiling. The lorries parked in a circle of light in the centre of the vacant building. He felt an icy shiver run down his spine as Bodie leapt from the passenger side of the jeep. His eyes, always easy to read according to Bodie, must have shown his dismay. Smythe cuffed him on the shoulder.

“What’s the matter, Doyle? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Ray shrugged and didn’t respond. _“How is Bodie going to play this?”_ he wondered silently to himself. Had Cowley finally given in and told Bodie what was actually going on? Had Murphy spilled the details? Not having made contact with Cowley since he went undercover, he had no idea if changes had been made to the original plan.

“Doyle!” Smythe called. “Wake up, mate. It’s time to move.”

Ray picked up the bag containing the money and followed Smythe down the stairs. He laughed at himself as he wished for his sunglasses, as if he could hide his discomfort from Bodie behind those shades.

Reaching the warehouse floor the two men walked toward the front vehicle. Smythe seemed to know the man they were greeting.

“Jackson, good to see you,” Smythe shook the man’s hand.

“Smythe,” Jackson looked around, “That the money?”

Receiving approval from Smythe, Ray handed the bag over.

Jackson called out. “Unload the goods.” Two men came out of the back of each vehicle. Then he called again. “Bodie!”

Bodie came around the side of the lorry and Ray saw him freeze for a second when their eyes met. Then the indifferent mask was back in place. Bodie’s eyes never left his and he could read the challenge being sent by his ex-partner. No one else would be aware of it, but then no one else knew Bodie as well as he did. He felt sweat breakout on the back of his neck. His loss of equilibrium went unnoticed by the rest of the men around. He’d learned to appear in control, it was why he was so good at undercover work. But there was no fooling Bodie. He knew, and Bodie smiled a predatory smile as he answered Jackson’s call.

“Yeah?”

The smile chilled Ray. He knew then that things were going to go badly. His instincts were screaming a warning. He’d learned the hard way to trust those warnings.

“Show these gentlemen what they’re buying,” Jackson instructed.

“Robbie, bring me the guns,” Bodie called out.

A young man came forward carrying a long-range rifle and several handguns. Bodie took a Walther and tossed it quickly at Ray. He caught it deftly and saw Bodie raise a hand to an imaginary forelock and give a slight bow. Ray felt like it was an acknowledgment that he was the winner of the first round in a game where he hadn’t been told the rules. He buried his unease and checked the gun. He made sure it was loaded, checked the silencer and then quickly spun and fired into a beam in the ceiling of the warehouse. He turned back to Smythe and nodded approval as he returned the gun to Robbie. Before he was ready, Bodie shoved the rifle at him hitting him hard in the chest. It was déjà vu; it was Willis and the gas holder and Marikka. He took a step back to maintain his balance. Bodie smirked; round two went to Bodie. Ray ignored him. He lifted the rifle to his shoulder and checked the sight. He grunted approval and gave the weapon to Smythe.

“Very nice, this,” Smythe was clearly pleased.

Jackson handed the bag with the cash to Bodie. “Check it,” he ordered.

Bodie set the bag on the bonnet of the jeep and opened it. He quickly picked through the bundled money and smiled at Jackson. “Looks like it’s all here.”

“Lock it up,” Jackson turned to Smythe and Doyle.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you gents.” He offered a mock salute. “Load up,” he told his men. As the words left his mouth the large warehouse doors slid open and CI5 poured in. The Blackpool police followed.

“Bloody hell,” Ray cursed and pulled his own weapon. He looked up at the catwalk where Smythe had left some of his men and saw them get ready to do battle.

“Spread out!” Jackson’s voice sang out.

“Put your weapons down!” George Cowley’s Scottish brogue echoed through the desolate structure.

Ray saw Mullins, who was perched under the roof, take aim at Cowley.

“Down, sir!” Ray yelled and fired a shot toward Mullins, amused at the irony of using the honorific he so sparingly employed now, as it gave away his cover. It was a bad time to show respect.

As Cowley ducked behind a vehicle, more shots rang out. Ray watched as Sloan fell. He wasn’t sure which side fired the shot that took the MI6 man down. He felt a burn in his own shoulder and then a sharp blow to the side of his head. As he tumbled forward to the floor he thought he heard someone call out his name. Bodie. He felt some of the tension he’d been carrying loosen a little as he slid into unconsciousness.

Pain brought him back from the comfort of oblivion. Smythe was dragging him across the warehouse floor. He could still hear gun-shots and shouting but none of it seemed to have anything to do with him. He groaned out loud as Smythe shoved him into the backseat of the car. He passed out again.

 **Chapter Ten**

Hearing shots, Bodie dropped to the warehouse floor, gun drawn. He watched, torn, as a man took Doyle and ran for the back of the building. He had heard Doyle shout a warning to Cowley. Ray had saved the old man from a bullet. Why? Why had Ray done that if he’d turned? When he’d first seen him, Ray had looked rough, stretched thin, like a man who had been alone for far too long. Murphy’s words floated back to him.

 _“Things aren’t always what they seem Bodie. There are reasons for everything. Think before you throw everything away.”_

He was still confused; what the hell was Ray playing at? The picture, the note… was Ray really doing all this to protect CI5 and me… or himself. He still hadn’t figured things out.

“Bodie!” Cowley’s sharp voice forced his attention back to the immediate job.

“Sir?”

“Jackson, Bodie. Round him up.”

Shots still rang out in the warehouse. Several bodies lay where they had fallen from the upper level. Murphy and the rest of the CI5 agents seemed to have things under control. The police officers were moving cuffed men out to the Black Maria. Jackson had to be the only one left unaccounted for.

With one quick look to where Ray had disappeared, he pushed his confusion aside and searched for Jackson. There was movement near the vehicle to his left. He knelt down. Feet were visible from his position under the lorry. He fired. A stifled groan was followed by Jackson dropping to his knees, blood flowing from the bullet wound in his ankle. Bodie made his way slowly around the vehicle until he was directly behind Jackson. He placed the barrel of his gun against the back of Jackson’s neck and cocked it. At the sound, Jackson stiffened.

“Turn around slowly,” Bodie’s voice was cold, empty.

Jackson turned to find Bodie’s gun now pointed at his forehead. “This is a bit of a surprise, mate.” Jackson winced when he moved his feet. “Thought we…”

“Shut it!” Bodie snapped.

“You’ve been playin’ for the other side all along, then?”

Bodie didn’t answer. He gestured for Jackson to drop his weapon. Jackson tried to comply but his injured ankle gave way. Bodie caught him as he fell. Jackson looked up, anger burning in his eyes.

“Never thought to see you turn on a mate, Bodie. Where’s the loyalty now?”

Jackson cried out in surprise when a fist connected with his jaw and sent him down to the floor. Bodie looked down at him, but didn’t see Jackson. He saw Ray, sprawled on the floor of the “Hound and Hare”, the same bloody splatter on Ray’s cheek. Words ran together in Bodie’s brain. _“… turn on a mate… loyalty”, “… How the hell can you believe that I did do it?”_ He heard again Doyle’s yell warning Cowley, saw him take a bullet for the effort of protecting a man he had supposedly betrayed. He saw the photograph of the two of them wrapped in each other’s arms. Loyalty. He felt sick. He knew the answers now. Why had it taken so long for him to see? _“How the hell can you believe…?”_ He didn’t. Murphy’s hints sounded loud in his ears. Then he heard Murphy’s voice, loud and close, and realised it wasn’t all in his head.

“Bodie!” Murphy’s call was followed by gunshots. Jackson’s body jerked. Murphy ran up to him.

“Where was your head, mate. He almost had you!”

Bodie looked down and saw the knife in Jackson’s hand. Murphy looked from the body to Bodie.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Bodie let out a shaky breath, “Yeah. Thanks.”

Murphy clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ve got most of them. Let’s wrap it up.” Murphy bent over to check Jackson. “This one’s dead.”

Bodie nodded. Murphy looked at him. Bodie was sure the unvoiced question was clear in his eyes.

“Doyle’s gone,” Murphy’s voice was apologetic. “They took him away in a car. We couldn’t get a clean shot. Two of them got away. Doyle was with them.”

“No.” Bodie’s voice was hard. “No, Murphy. He’s not with them. I was wrong, wrong to doubt him. He never…” He raised his head and looked around the warehouse, a feral gleam in his eyes. “The old man’s got some explaining to do.” He marched over to where he’d last seen the head of CI5.

 **Chapter Eleven**

A sharp slap to his cheek brought Ray back to consciousness. Smythe stood in front of him. He tried to move but found himself tied to a wooden chair. The ropes holding him in place pulled painfully at his shoulder wound. Looking down, he could see his shirt soaked with blood.

“Haven’t changed at all have you, Doyle?” Smythe backhanded him again. His head snapped back. He had difficulty focusing. “Still grassing on your partners.”

Ray cringed as Smythe’s hand moved to strike again. Smythe laughed but held back the blow.

“Where’s the arrogance now, eh boy?”

Ray didn’t respond. The pain in his head was pulling him under again. He felt nauseous. He couldn’t concentrate. He thought he remembered seeing Bodie watch as Smythe had dragged him away from the bust. He remembered feeling a bit of hope, thinking that Bodie would save him.

 _“You’ll save me.”_ Hadn’t he told Bodie that a long time ago? And Bodie had saved him, that time and many after. He’d done the same for his partner. Knowing they could always depend on each other was what had kept them both going in a job that kept getting harder and harder to reconcile, knowing that Bodie was there, ready to save him, no matter what. But that was gone now. He’d lost that backup and support when he took this assignment. Bodie thought he’d turned, thought that he was a traitor. Bodie probably believed Smythe had been saving a mate when he’d seen him being dragged out of the warehouse. Bile rose in his throat. He retched dryly.

Smythe laughed again. “Not so confident now?” The voice was mocking. “Nowhere to hide this time. No tricky manoeuvring. No behind-the-scenes deals. This time it’s just us.”

The menace in the voice chilled him. Smythe was out for revenge for past sins. Ray wondered why he’d let himself in for this. “ _Damn Cowley and his sodding triple think._ ”

 **Chapter Twelve**

Bodie eyed Cowley with suspicion. They were back at HQ. The prisoners were locked in the basement cells, awaiting their turn for interrogation.

“Sit down, laddie.” Cowley pointed to a chair, drink already poured and sitting on the desk. “I’ve something to explain.”

“About Doyle?”

“Yes 3.7, about your partner.”

“Ex-partner,” Bodie’s voice was cold. He wasn’t going to let the old man off the hook, wasn’t going to let him know he had figured out that Ray was no traitor, that Ray had been acting under Cowley’s orders. He wanted the bastard to admit that Ray had been set up.

“That may well be, Bodie, but I hope not.” Cowley’s sigh sounded sad.

Bodie waited, letting the tension build, before asking. “What’s going on, sir? I want to know all of it.”

“After we got Doyle inserted in MI6 he was made part of an undercover operation to break a drugs for guns plot. I sent Doyle into the drug group. He was not guilty of any of the acts he was accused of. He never betrayed any real information to MI6. The blackmail was never real. The photo was planted to give you a reason you’d understand, one that you would accept as an explanation for Doyle’s betrayal.”

Bodie started out of the chair. Cowley waved him back.

“Doyle went in willingly. He thought the job was worth the risks.”

“Why wasn’t I told?” His voice was hard and he felt the heat of his anger climb up his neck. “Why wasn’t I trusted with this?”

“That was my decision, Bodie and I’m not required to justify my decisions to you,” Cowley’s voice was cold.

They sat staring at each other. Cowley spoke first.

“Ach, Bodie. We had to make the cover perfect. Doyle was going to need to convince everyone in CI5 and the other agencies that he’d turned, and especially you.” Cowley looked at him and Bodie could see anger building in the cool grey eyes. “But your partner is nothing if not stubborn. He was supposed to pull out once we had names and a meeting place. CI5 and MI6 were going to cooperate to bring the various parties down. Cooperation with MI6 was the price we had to pay for the whole Doyle charade. Willis is fuming, but he agreed in the end that the plot worked. There was a rumour that the KGB might be involved. That sweetened the pot.” Cowley shook his head. “Insubordinate, that lad is. He stayed in, directly disobeying orders. And he got himself caught.”

“And Murphy knew about the undercover.” It was not a question and yet it demanded an answer.

“Murphy was to be Doyle’s contact. He knew the truth.”

“That plan went bollocks up though, didn’t it?” The derision in Bodie’s tone was not lost on his boss. “Murphy never had a chance to help.”

“Yes. Doyle didn’t know how many men Smythe had in addition to the six that he met. He was kept isolated from anyone else. We underestimated. That’s why they were able to take Doyle.” Cowley took off his glasses and rubbed his nose.

“If it’s any consolation Bodie, Doyle’s biggest concern was you.”

“Me?”

“He didn’t know how you’d react to his purported betrayal. He wasn’t sure you would believe it. If you started trying to convince everyone he was innocent his cover might not have held; MI6 might have gotten suspicious.”

“That’s why the blackmail scheme.”

“Yes.”

“Joke’s on him then, isn’t it? He was the one who was betrayed. I believed all that crap about him.” He shook his head and sighed. “Why couldn’t I know the truth, I could have…”

“You’re not that good an actor Bodie,” Cowley interrupted, “Especially where your feelings for Doyle are concerned.” There was a strange look in the old man’s eyes, quickly there and gone.

Bodie felt himself go cold. “What are you saying… sir?”

Cowley looked at him over his glasses. “You know exactly what I’m NOT saying Bodie. Let’s leave it at that.”

“So what happens now?” Bodie took the escape offered him, but there was more to this, another reason he’d been left out; he was sure of it.

“Go on out and find your partner. I’ve got Jax and Murphy on the streets already.” He handed Bodie a slip of paper. “This is the boarding house Doyle stayed in. See if he left any information in his room. Talk to the people staying there. See if they saw or know anything. Ach, you know the drill.”

 **Chapter Thirteen**

He’d been left tied to the chair for a round of questions he hadn’t answered. Frustrated, they’d untied him and shoved him down a steep set of wooden stairs and then cuffed him to a narrow bed. No one had been down to see him for what felt like a long time. He could hear them walking on the floor above, so he knew he hadn’t been left. There had been extra footsteps, was it last night? He wasn’t sure when. It was after they’d let him use the toilet. Then he’d been given a plate of cold toast and a luke-warm cup of tea. His wrist was handcuffed to the bed frame and he’d been left alone. He’d heard voices upstairs. He thought there were five men up there. There had been arguing but he couldn’t make out the words through the constant ringing in his ears. He thought he must be concussed. But he kept trying. Old habits died hard. He’d drifted into a restless sleep. When he woke it was quiet again upstairs. He floated for a while and came to awareness when he heard the sound of someone coming down the stairs. He recognised the rhythm of the footsteps as Mullins and Smythe. He struggled into a sitting position.

Smythe tossed a newspaper in his lap.

“Read it,” Smythe snarled.

Ray looked at the headlines. He couldn’t focus his eyes well enough to read any further. “CI5 Breaks IRA Gun Scheme.”

Smythe reached down and grabbed him by the hair and forced his head up. “You’ve got some questions to answer, Doyle.”

Smythe released his grip on his hair and backhanded him across the face.

“Don’t know anything, mate.” He tried to shake off the pain behind his eyes and keep his voice steady. They knew what he was now. His chances of talking his way out were gone.

Mullins uncuffed him and pulled him off the cot. He stripped him of what remained of his shirt and then used the handcuffs to bind his hands together. He was too weak to stand. Mullins half carried him to the centre of the room, stretched his bound arms over his head and hooked them to a ceiling beam. It was agony. They left him that way while they talked quietly in the opposite corner of the room. He fainted and was woken when a bucket of cold water was thrown over him. Chilled skin pebbled and he began to shake, long deep tremors racking him. Mullins came closer and removed his belt. Mullins laughed when he saw the shocked look on his face.

“No need to worry about that, petal.” He camped it up for his audience. “While you’re certainly pretty, we’re none of us so inclined.” He mockingly ran a gentle finger from Ray’s cheek to his navel. Ray shuddered in response, drawing more laughter. The belt was wrapped around his ankles.

Smythe stood in front of him shaking the newspaper in his face. “Your CI5 boys took down a Member of Parliament and two Detective Sergeants at the Met. Locked ‘em right up.”

Ray closed his eyes feeling a bit of relief. CI5 had found the notes he’d left in his room at the boarding house.

“That means we don’t need you for information anymore. You’ve become useless.” Smythe moved in very close, putting a hand in Ray’s curls and jerking his head back hard.

“Does that mean you’re going to let me go?” He tried to sneer, but he didn’t think he’d pulled it off.

“You’re a funny one aren’t you?” Smythe pulled a bit harder on his hair. “No Ray, it’s time now for revenge. I’m not happy with the way you treated my mates at the Met. Shouldn’t have grassed on them like you did. S’not right, that. And I may have been able to forgive you for that, but then you went and lied to me. Made me believe your story about being bent. I don’t like to be made a fool of. Especially not twice by the same sodding prick.” Smythe let loose the grip on his hair and the questions began in earnest.

Time passed. He had no idea how much. The basement door opened and he heard the familiar two sets of footsteps descend. He groaned quietly. _“Will it never end?”_

They’d been on him for what felt like days. The routine was always the same. Mullins released him from the cot and then the handcuffs were used to bind him to the beam overhead. Smythe asked the questions. Silence or answers didn’t matter, fists quickly followed.

“Good day, Raymond.” Smythe was all sunshine and cheer this time. Ray was too tired and too sore to respond. He ignored the man.

“Hope you’re going to be a bit more cooperative this morning?”

Again, there was no response.

“Let’s start with how your mob found us.” Smythe grabbed his face, squeezing his cheeks hard enough to leave bruises.

“Loose lips everywhere, mate.” He decided to answer this time. “You boys weren’t very circumspect.”

“Who?” Smythe demanded, shaking the head held in his hand.

Nausea cramped his stomach and he retched. The small amount of water and bile that came up and out landed on Smythe’s shoes. He gave his captor a satisfied grin. “Sorry,” he choked out, his tone of voice anything but.

A blow to the stomach had him retching again. This time there was nothing to bring up but bile and it burned his throat. He hung miserably by his aching arms, spinning slightly from the blow.

“Look,” he gasped in a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter anymore. By now Cowley will have extracted all the information he needs from the men he captured at the warehouse. He’ll know your set up and your plans.” He sucked in another breath, fighting to stay conscious. “It’s only a matter of time before the rest of your accomplices in the Met or Ministry are discovered and arrested.”

Smythe didn’t look pleased with the information. Blows rained down on Doyle’s back and sides. He let himself pass out. Cold water brought him back.

“Let’s try a different topic.” Smythe placed a knife under his chin. “Tell me about CI5.”

“Protocols... will change...” He could barely get the words out.

“Go on.” The knife moved away.

“When an agent is taken... things change. Any information I had will be out of date.”

“So you’re telling us you’re useless.”

He wearily shook his head.

“I don’t believe that for a minute, Doyle!” He saw Smythe nod at Mullins and a blow to the kidneys sent him spiralling into darkness.

A cramp in his leg pulled him up out of unconsciousness. He was back on the cot. He shuddered, pulling the thin blanket further up over his chilled frame. He knew he was in a bad way. The gunshot wound, although initially tended, still hurt. His shoulder wasn’t bad, just a very deep graze. It was the lack of food and water and real sleep that were starting to take a toll on him. He was given barely enough water to keep him alive. He was dizzy and nauseous and frighteningly weak. He ached everywhere from the beatings. He didn’t think there were any internal injuries. They did take care to make sure none of their punches were too severe. They beat him just enough to keep him uncomfortable, to make sleep impossible. He knew they weren’t done with him. Despite all the training he’d undergone to handle situations like this one, he wasn’t sure he could hold on much longer. He tried to push his fear deep inside. He didn’t want his captors to know they were close to breaking him.

 **Chapter Fourteen**

Bodie’s searches had revealed nothing. It was as if Doyle had vanished, had never existed. Except for the hole he’d left in Bodie’s life. Bodie knew Ray had existed. The longer Doyle remained missing, the more remorse he felt. If Doyle had gone to his grave believing that his lover thought him a traitor, Bodie would never forgive himself. Ray’s name had been cleared, for all the good that did him now. Bodie’s every free moment was spent tracking down information. No one knew anything. The MI6 agent that had been undercover with Ray remained unconscious in Guy’s and wasn’t expected to live. Cowley had scaled back the search when it became clear there was nothing to find. Bodie was sent out on surveillance jobs solo. No one wanted to be partnered with him. He was impatient and angry and he didn’t hide it. Cowley had called him in to the office this morning. Cowley hadn’t said why. He stood like a dark shadow in front of the Controller’s desk.

“I’m sorry lad, there is nothing more we can do,” Cowley closed the file on his desk.

“We can’t forget about him. How can you accept this, write him off, after all he’s given?” Bodie’s eyes blazed with anger.

“It’s been over three weeks Bodie, with no clues, no sightings, and no word.” The head of CI5 sighed in what sounded to Bodie like resignation. “You have to let it go.” His expression let Cowley know he’d made a mistake as soon as the words left his lips.

“I’m never going to make that mistake again, sir.” Bodie assumed his parade rest stance, signalling his unacknowledged defiance. An uncomfortable silence followed.

There was a knock on the door. Murphy entered.

“Ah, Murphy,” Cowley ignored Bodie’s glare. “Let me brief you two on your next assignment. We received a tip that the KGB is planning to pick up a ‘package’. We believe it is drugs to finance covert operations in Britain. Here are the names of a few people willing to talk to us. Check them out, report back.”

“Sir,” as he turned to leave the room he heard Cowley tell Murphy, “Keep an eye on him.”

 **Chapter Fifteen**

The isolation was starting to take its toll. He’d had the training to deal with it, but somehow it never did match up to the reality of being wounded, cold, hungry and alone in the dark for hours and days on end. He had no idea how long he had been confined. The unconsciousness that followed the beatings and the disorientation brought on by lack of food and water stole all sense of passing time. He had no contact with anyone. Food appeared at odd intervals, always left when he was asleep. He had recently started talking to the rats that ran through the cellar. At least the sound of his voice broke the constant silence that had become like a second presence in the gloom. The worst of it was he had nothing to do but think. Think and consider all moves that had landed him here, think about all that he had done to get into this mess, think about the bridges in flames behind him, think about Bodie.

And where was Bodie? Why hadn’t he come? Bodie had seen Smythe take him in the warehouse. He drew in a sharp breath as his temper flared. “ _Bodie believed I was with Smythe!”_ The fact that he hadn’t been rescued yet finally hit him with a painful truth. Bodie really did believe he had turned. Anger built. How _could_ Bodie believe it? They’d been partners for eight fucking years. Bodie knew him better than anyone else ever had... ever would. Bodie had often teased him about his conscience and his unbending sense of right and wrong. Knowing how much he suffered for his strict sense of morality, how could Bodie think he would really be part of a drug running scheme? Maybe they really didn’t understand each other as well as they thought...“ _Bloody hell!”_ He wasn’t thinking clearly. He was injured and tired and cold and, yes... scared. None of this was Bodie’s fault. Bodie had been set up and it was unpardonable to blame him for doing what he was led to do. There was no point in this brooding. “A _nd wasn’t that pillock always telling me that?”_ The anger was burning up what little reserves he had left and he knew he was directing it at the wrong man. He closed his eyes and silently asked his partner’s forgiveness.

The beatings finally stopped and they were feeding him a bit better, a bit more often. They gave him a warmer blanket. Something had changed. There were more footsteps and voices overhead, more arguments. He was able to make out some of what they were saying. He heard Mullins yell that he was sick of being stuck in this hideout. Another voice told him to wait a bit longer; their plans were being set in motion. The voices got quieter and he could no longer clearly hear what was being said. He heard several footsteps on the stairs. They were coming. He tried to sit up but his head spun and his throat closed up. He lay back down. He didn’t want them to find him unconscious.

“Okay Ray, mate, we need to get you ready.” Smythe was all smiles again.

Ray remained silent.

Smythe leaned over the cot and took Ray’s hands, pulling him into a sitting position. Sweat broke out on his face. The movement set his bruised body on edge. He bit back a whimper.

“Easy, lad.” Smythe patted him on the shoulder. “I need you to hold this newspaper and smile pretty for the camera.”

The Times was forced into his hands and he cringed as the camera flashed in his eyes.

Smyth answered his unvoiced question. “You’re going to be our ticket out of here.”

Ray laughed. It came out as a hoarse croak. “I’ve been dead to CI5 for as long as you’ve had me. They won’t deal with you.”

“Not CI5 we’re dealin’ with, Doyle,” Smythe winked at him conspiratorially. “I’ve got some foreign friends who are really anxious to meet you. We need the photo to show them what we’ve got to trade.”

Ray turned away from Smythe, hoping to hide the fear that flashed through him. He had a pretty good idea who these foreign friends were. He knew all too well what kind of treatment guests of those particular foreign friends could expect.

Smythe grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head around to face him. “I’ll be happy to be rid of you, you sodding bastard. You’ll finally be getting what you deserve.”

Ray shook his head, trying to get out of Smythe’s grasp. “Wasting your time, you are. What I know about CI5 will all have changed by now. I’m useless.” He gasped as Smythe tightened the grip in his hair.

“You better hope, for your sake, that you are wrong.” Smythe released him, slamming his head back down into the bed. He roughly slapped Ray’s cheek. “Meanwhile we need to keep you from trying anything daft before we can complete our transaction.”

Smythe nodded to one of the figures standing behind him. The man handed something to Smythe and then pinned Ray to the cot by his shoulders. Ray winced as he felt the wound on his right shoulder reopen. The blood running down onto the cot was forgotten as he watched Smythe slide a needle in to his arm.

“No,” he whispered as Smythe laughed at him. The room spun sickeningly.

“A little something to keep you quiet, mate.” He heard Smythe’s voice from far away as Smythe and his boys went back up the stairs.

 **Chapter Sixteen**

Bodie looked around the bar. It was a quiet place. Most of the customers looked like regulars, probably all dock workers. He fit in with his black polo neck and jeans. He had been surprised when Martell had set up this meeting, no explanation given. He ordered a pint and found a table near the door. Martell entered flanked by two very large blokes. Bodie smiled. He nodded at Marty; the message was received. Martell joined him.

“Missed me, did you?” He winked at Martell. “What’s this urgent news you mentioned?”

“Heard some rumours,” Martell took a deep pull of his lager.

“Don’t deal in rumours, mate. Nothin’ but facts.”

“Okay hardman, but these rumours are coming out of Blackpool.”

“Blackpool,” Bodie’s eyes narrowed.

“Thought that would interest you,” Martell smiled.

“Go on.”

“Word is a couple of blokes are looking for passage out of the country.”

“That’s nothin’ new. Lots of thugs are looking to leave their pasts behind.”

“These thugs, as you so nicely put it, have a lot of money and pure uncut on offer.”

“Drugs and money, now that is interesting. Who are they talkin’ to?”

“Rumour says it’s the Russians.”

“KGB.”

“Yeah and here’s the kicker. These blokes are sweetening the deal with another offer, an information source.”

“Doyle,” Bodie tensed.

“That was my thought. That’s why I called you. I’d hate to see that nasty little git go out that way.”

Bodie chuckled darkly. “You’re getting soft, Marty.”

“Nah. Know what he means to you, don’t I? Don’t want you getting all difficult because someone took your favourite toy away from you.” The sarcasm was clear.

He downed the last of his drink. Martell leaned in and quietly gave him a name.

“I’ll let him know you’re comin’. He has the information on where these blokes might be holed up.”

“Thanks, Marty. If this pans out, I’ll owe you one.”

“You already do, mate.” Marty laughed quietly but the laughter did not reach his eyes.

He clapped Martell on the shoulder and left the bar. Thoughts that this information on Doyle and the case he and Murphy had been given might tie together raced through his mind. Maybe he had finally caught a break. Now he had to decide how to handle the information. He wanted to go after Ray on his own. He didn’t want to risk Ray’s life if it was him being traded for safe passage. Too many CI5 agents in the area might spook the men he was after, forcing them to move Ray before he could be found. Best he go in alone. He’d use Marty as a backup. He could set things up so that if Martell or his contact in Blackpool didn’t hear from him or Doyle by a specified time, Marty would get in touch with Murphy. Yeah, that would work. Feeling better than he had in a long while, he headed back to headquarters and his obbo with Murphy.

“I don’t like this Bodie. You’re sure this is the place?” Murphy frowned. They were sitting in the car outside a dockside pub. It had started to snow and the building storm whipped icy flakes against the windscreen.

“Martell’s man, Rollins, told him Ray was being held there,” Bodie pointed to a dark structure next to the pub. “He’s in the basement. Rollins tends bar next door and Martell set him up as a contact for Smythe. He had Rollins get friendly with the blokes renting the place so he should know what’s going on. I can’t wait for Cowley, Murphy. There isn’t enough time. It will take him four hours to get here, and that’s if he leaves right now. The swap is going down tonight. I can’t let the Russians get their hands on Ray. According to Rollins, Smythe is supposed to get Ray on the ship in a few hours. Smythe’s gang plans to sail out right after midnight and meet up with a Russian trawler about twelve miles out. Ray would then be handed over to the Russians and in turn, Smythe’s crew is getting safe passage to Norway. There is no time to wait.” He had to go after Ray on his own, why couldn’t Murphy see that? “I can’t let that happen. I have to get to him before they can get him on that ship.” He buttoned up his heavy coat and pulled on his gloves. He picked up the bag he’d packed and slung it over his shoulder.

“Let me go with you then.”

“No, I need you to wait here for back up. If things go wrong, you’ll have to tell it all to Cowley. ”

Murphy sat back in the car seat and glared at him.

“Look, it’s the best I can do, Murphy. I can’t take a chance with Ray’s life.”

“I don’t like it, Bodie,” Murphy said again. “Cowley will have our skins if this goes wrong.”

“Not open for discussion, mate. If you’re worried about yourself, then head back to London.”

“Don’t be an arse, Bodie! I’ll wait for your call. I’ll be there when you need me.”

Bodie felt his face flush and he looked down at his shoes. Murphy laughed and Bodie looked up into understanding eyes.

He tried once more to appease the man. “I’ve got the R/T. If I can’t get Ray out, or if I run into other trouble, I’ll call and I’ll wait for back up if I don’t think I can get in an out cleanly.”

Murphy’s expression let Bodie know he didn’t believe a word of that.

Bodie had enough honesty to look embarrassed at being caught out. He sighed and shook his head.

“I won’t put Ray in any further danger. If it looks safer to wait for backup, for Ray’s sake, I will wait. If you don’t believe anything else I’ve said, you know you can trust that. I’ll bring Ray back to the hotel. You meet Cowley there and then take the rest of these bastards down.”

Murphy nodded reluctantly, starting the car. “Be careful, Bodie. I don’t want to have to explain to Cowley how I lost _both_ the Bisto Kids.”

Bodie gave a short laugh as he got out of the car. He walked casually toward the pub. It was as dirty inside as it was outside. He walked through the haze and up to an old wooden bar. He took a seat at the end. The patrons all looked to be locals. Dressed like they were, no one paid him any attention. The bar served as a watering hole for many of the crews that were just passing though. Strangers were a common sight here.

The bartender, Martell’s man Rollins, walked up to his end of the bar.

“What’ll you have, mate?”

He ordered the lager Martell had said would identify him. Rollins looked him over as he placed the lager and a glass on the bar. Bodie picked up the glass and turned it upside down. Rollins nodded his recognition of the signal. He wandered away to serve another patron. Bodie drank his lager.

Finished with his customers, Rollins came back down to Bodie’s end of the bar. He confirmed the information Martell had given him earlier.

“They have your mate in the house next door,” he said quietly while Bodie finished his drink. “The plan is to move him out around eleven. They have a meet with some fisherman off shore at midnight. Their guest is to be left with the fisherman, while they’ll be put aboard another ship headin’ for Norway.” He looked at Bodie. “I don’t think you want to let your mate get on that ship.”

“No. I don’t.” Bodie ordered another drink.

While he filled Bodie’s order Rollins continued. “Saw them all leave the house about an hour ago. Your man should be alone in there.”

“How many?”

“Five, three Brits and two with funny accents. Those are the ones I’d watch out for.”

“Indeed.” He thanked the man with a raised eyebrow and left money on the bar. As he stepped outside he looked around. It was still snowing and the street was empty. “ _Now or never_ ,” he thought.

He needed to get Ray out before Smythe’s crew came back. He silently crept close to the house. The house was dark and silent. He made his way to the back and peered in an uncurtained window. He couldn’t see anyone and there was no hint of movement inside. He worked his way slowly around to the front door. There was still no sign that there was anyone else around. He tried the door. It was locked. Despite his heavy gloves, his fingers were numb with cold. He knew he didn’t have the dexterity necessary to pick the lock. He checked the sky and then his watch. Things aren’t going to improve, he told himself. It was time to take the chance and go on in. He took a step back, and with all his weight, he kicked the thick wooden door open. He looked around, but there was no one in the area to notice the noise. He peered carefully around the opening. There was no reaction to his entrance. He quickly rolled through the open door and crouching on his knees, gun held out in front of him, he glanced around the room. He was alone. Keeping his gun ready, he made his way slowly around the front room checking for clues, occupants or his partner. There were no signs of recent habitation. The fact that he was dealing with professionals truly sank in. That didn’t bode well for Ray. There were no dirty dishes left around to provide finger prints, no trace of any food, nothing left sitting around that could lead him back to them. He continued his search. He found a door in the kitchen. This door was locked as well. He threw his shoulder against it and the door snapped open. He waited but again there was no reaction. He stood at the top of the stairs and took a deep breath. There were no lights on in the cellar. Back to the wall, gun in front of him he slowly made his way down the wooden stairs.

 **Chapter Seventeen**

He thought he remembered the sound of the door closing and then nothing. He waited what seemed hours for a footstep above him, but heard nothing. He drifted for a while, the last of the drug leaving his system and realised that he’d been left on his own. This was his one chance to get away before the Russians came to take him. He knew he wasn’t strong enough to hold out against their interrogations. He had to get away, or find a way to take himself out. He would not put the rest of CI5 at risk. He would not put Bodie at risk. He tried to move his arms. Both had been cuffed to the bed frame. He pulled on them, wrenching his shoulders and further tearing the abused flesh of his wrists. No luck. He was too weak to free himself. Frustration took over. He thrashed on the bed, cursing, tangling himself in the tattered rugs, restricting his movements even further. With a final heave against his bonds, he cried out and lost consciousness.

 **Chapter Eighteen**

The inhuman howl startled Bodie, lifting the fine hair on the back of his neck. He waited, not breathing, but the cry did not come again. He reached the bottom of the stairs and made his was cautiously through the dark space. There was a bit of light in the far corner. The room was cold, damp and smelled like human sweat and blood. Someone had been sick down here, and recently. He moved further into the room. There was a narrow bed set up against the far wall, hardly visible in the dim light. He moved closer. There was a body on the bed. At least that was his first impression. There was a lump tangled up in a dirty, ratty rug. That was the source of the smell. A narrow, pale hand lay outside the meagre covers. Bodie coughed, as much to alert the body in the bed as to remove the smell of the unwashed body from his nose and throat. There was no movement from the bed. Bodie leaned in and pulled the covers away from the concealed head exposing lank, greasy hair; it was difficult to tell the colour. “Hey”, he called softly. No response. He tried again, “Mate.” He gently shook a narrow shoulder. The body beneath his hand tensed, then began to shake. A broken voice whispered, “No more… won’t do you any good. I’ve told you all I can…” The words ended with a choked sob. He watched as a battered face fought its way out from under the rug. Empty green eyes stared up at him through bruised lids. Bodie froze. Martell’s information had been correct. He had found his partner.

 **Chapter Nineteen**

He’d felt feverish for what seemed like days, maybe it had turned into delirium. He was sure he heard Bodie’s voice. But that was impossible. Bodie wasn’t here. Bodie wouldn’t be here. Bodie was done with him. He’d said so. “ _You’re on your own, Doyle.”_ He remembered that, heard the words echo in his mind. He didn’t remember why they’d been said. Had he done something to make Bodie angry with him? Yes, it seems he had. He’d lied to him. For Cowley. For lavender and roses. No, Bodie wasn’t here. He was on his own. But then who was saying his name over and over? Who was it that was pulling him up out of his blankets and into a strong embrace? Whose hands were softly exploring his wounds? Whose breath hitched in time with his when those hands caused pain? Whose hot tears were slowly inching down the raw skin of his neck?

“Bodie?” His voice was weak, barely a whisper, but he knew the other man heard him when the arms around him tightened. “’s that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Ray. I’ve got you.” The voice was thick with tears.

Bodie, weeping? That frightened him. Bodie wasn’t given to such emotional displays.

“Bodie...” Despite the fear, relief flowed through him. He raised shaking hands to the face he never believed he’d see again. He rubbed dirty, bruised fingers over cheeks, eyebrows, lips, until the face under scrutiny broke into a small smile.

“What’s all this in aid of?”

The voice, so familiar, finally convinced him that he wasn’t hallucinating.

“I’m makin’ sure you’re really here... Bodie?” His voice, a trembling rasp, broke on the last word.

Bodie pulled back a bit, but didn’t release him. “It’s me, sunshine... tall, dark, handsome... ”

“... and engagingly modest.” He closed burning eyes and leaned back into Bodie’s arms.

“Ray,” the voice was all serious now. “We’ve got to get you out of here. There are some Russians planning to take you on a bit of a Lubyanka vacation. Am I right in thinking you ‘ll want to pass on that?”

“Yeah, don’t think I fancy their definition of hospitality,” he managed a small grin. Having Bodie here made the pain diminish, gave him a bit of energy.

“First, a bit of my Raffles routine.”

He watched as Bodie took a set of lock picks out of his coat pocket and started to work on the handcuffs. He groaned in relief when his hands were finally free. Bodie gently rubbed his hands and wrists to help return some feeling.

He watched Bodie’s face as the man took the rug from around him revealing all the damage that had been done.

“Bloody hell, Ray,” Bodie’s eyes closed. “They did quite a number on you, didn’t they?”

“No time, Bodie,” he ran his hand across Bodie’s cheek. We have to move, yeah?”

“Can you stand?” Bodie asked as he pulled a jumper from the pack he’d been carrying.

Bodie nodded encouragement as Ray got to his feet. His legs felt like jelly, but he was up. Bodie tossed the jumper at him.

“Get this around you. Let’s see if I can find something else for you to wear. It’s damn cold outside.” Bodie looked around the room. He found the discarded boots and jacket in the corner.

“Here.”

He dressed as quickly as he could. He felt himself reel dizzily, and then felt Bodie’s hands support him.

“Easy, Ray. Let me help.” He saw the look of worry that crossed Bodie’s face. He shared the concern. The exertion of dressing should have left him sweaty, but his skin remained hot and dry. Without a word, Bodie pulled a canteen from the pack.

“Drink, but only a little and slowly.”

He took a few swallows and felt his stomach clench. Bodie grabbed his shoulders.

“Try to keep it down.”

He nodded, taking a few deep breaths. His ribs protested. Speech was now beyond him. After a few more deep breaths and with Bodie rubbing his back, the sick feeling left him.

“I’m okay.” He took a step away from Bodie and staggered.

“Sure you are, sunshine.”

He heard the amusement in his partner’s voice. He caught Bodie’s eye.

“Bodie... I’m sorr...”

“Later.” Bodie cut him off harshly and he saw the walls go up in Bodie’s eyes. Not forgiven then.

“Yeah, okay.”

“We’ve got to go, mate.” He was then wrapped up in the rug from the bed. Bodie handed him the canteen again. “Drink a little more. We’ve got to get you rehydrated.”

After he drank, Bodie helped him up the stairs. He swayed several times but Bodie was always there to steady him. After what seemed like hours to him, they were out of the basement. He was shaking badly.

“Need a rest, Bodie.” He stopped at the top of the stairs and leaned on the wall. His breathing was quick and shallow.

“Not too long, Ray. We don’t want to be here when your hosts get back.”

Bodie ran a hand across his forehead and muttered concern that he still wasn’t sweating. He made him take another small drink of water while he pulled the R/T out of his pocket to call in. Ray’s knees buckled and he collapsed into Bodie. They both watched with dismay as the R/T dropped out of Bodie’s hands and bounced down the stairs.

 **Chapter Twenty**

Bodie cursed silently. He sat Ray down on the top step and turned to go after the R/T. He was stopped by voices outside the house.

“It’s all right, Ray. Murphy knows where we are.” He didn’t add that it would be at least several hours before Murphy suspected that there was anything wrong. “C’mon mate, we can’t stay here.” He put a hand under Ray’s arm and lifted to help his partner stand. If he stopped to think about it, he’d be frightened at how truly weak Ray was. He got Ray to his feet, trying to ignore the shaking in the body clinging to his own. He offered a gentle pat on the back and was met by wide, frightened eyes.

“Don’t know that I can do this, Bodie.” He could barely make out the words.

“’Course you can, sunshine.” He hoped that his doubt was hidden beneath the false bravado. “Nothin’ we can’t do if we’re together.”

His attention was caught again by the sounds of voices and footsteps outside the house. He looked at Ray. This time his gaze was greeted with understanding.

“Whatever we’re going to do, we need to do it now.” He picked up the pack, put an arm around Ray and turned him toward the back door. His plan to get Ray over to the Rusty Scupper was ruined when he saw Mullins standing outside the front of the house, in plain sight of the pub’s door. He’d hoped to use the telephone to call Murphy. Now he’d need to find one somewhere else.

“We’ll get away from the house and down towards the docks. We should be able to find a public phone and something to use as a shelter where we can wait for Murphy and the cavalry.”

The snow was turning into an icy sleet. Ray was chilled. The jumper Bodie had brought and his own leather jacket were not enough protection. They walked as quickly as Ray could, Bodie trying to keep him moving, toward the docks, keeping to the dark shadows of the rundown buildings as much as possible. Ray’s strength was all but spent. Bodie had been half carrying him the last several hundred yards. Then Bodie heard the voices again. He recognised Smythe’s voice and the Russian accent that replied. They had discovered that Ray was gone. He was going to have to quickly find a place to hide.

“There!” He heard a voice call out. “They’re over by the Dunson Warehouse.” He heard footsteps running towards them. He pulled Ray inside an empty building.

“Stay here,” he ordered, shoving a gun into trembling hands.

“Where...?”

“I’m going to draw them off, circle back. You stay here.”

Ray nodded his understanding but he clearly didn’t like the idea of Bodie going off by himself.

“I’ll be back, sunshine. Count on it.” He peered around the doorframe of the building, not seeing anyone. As soon as he was out of the warehouse, shots were fired. He dropped to the ground and rolled behind a rubbish bin. He saw a figure detach itself from the side of the building across the alley.

“Bodie!” He heard Ray’s panicked voice call out.

“I’m alright, Ray. Stay put.”

The figure he’d seen was moving slowly towards him. When it was outlined in the yellow light of a street lamp, he fired. A muffled cry and the man went down. More shots rang out from his right. He rolled back toward the warehouse door, firing a wide spray of bullets as he went.

“We can’t stay here, mate. You ready?” He took in the pale face.

“Bodie, go on and get help. I’ll just slow you down.”

“Not leaving you, Angelfish. Not after everything I’ve already been through to get us this far.” He tried to keep the worry from his voice. He took a quick look around the door and didn’t see anyone. _“They must be licking their own wounds,”_ he thought to himself.

He helped Ray up and together they left their shelter. No shots followed them out. He pointed to a pile of crates on the dock waiting to be loaded.

“There, Ray. We need to make it over there.” A gunshot sounded behind them.

“Gotta move a bit more quickly, sunshine. They’re on us.” He took more of Ray’s weight in his arms and half carried, half dragged his partner behind a pile of crates near the water. He settled Doyle as best he could behind crates and boxes. They were more exposed to the weather out this close to the water, but there wasn’t a better alternative with Smythe and his friends so close behind them. He pulled the rug and Ray’s jacket tighter around the shivering form.

He checked his gun. One bullet left. He took the Walther he’d given to Ray. It still had a full clip.

“Ray.” His partner was now semi-conscious. He took Ray’s shoulder in his hand and gently shook him. “Ray, c’mon, sunshine. You hear me?”

Ray’s eyes refocused slowly as he spoke to him. He got a nod in response.

“I’m going to draw them away. There’s a telephone up the way. I need to call in, get us help.” He cut off Ray’s protest. “There’s no time to argue.” He shoved a gun into Ray’s hands. “There’s one bullet left. They don’t know where you are. If they find you, you know what to do?”

Ray looked up at him, eyes wide and sad. He slowly closed them in resigned acceptance.

He took Ray’s hand and squeezed. “Promise me, Ray. Promise me you won’t let the Russians take you alive.” Ray’s hand tightened around his. “That’s all right then.” He leaned in and brushed a soft kiss across Ray’s lips. Ray’s eyes opened. Blue met green and all the words they didn’t have time for flashed between them: forgiveness, understanding, and love.

Without a backward glance, Bodie left their shelter.

 **Chapter Twenty One**

Ray’s vision blurred, it had to be the snow and sleet that ran into his eyes. He watched the gun in his hand shake. One bullet. Bodie had told him that was all there was left. He saw a dark shape moving in the direction of the last spot where he had seen Bodie. He couldn’t call out a warning without giving away his own hiding place. He feared that if he did yell, Bodie’s position would be exposed. One bullet. Bodie had made him promise to keep that bullet for himself. He shrugged. He had already broken a far bigger promise to his partner.

He slid slowly from behind the crates that concealed him. He was too weak to stand so he crawled slowly toward the Russian. He silently thanked the sleet and wind for covering the sounds of his movement. He didn’t have the strength to concentrate on being quiet. He could see both Bodie and the Russian now. Bodie was moving cautiously across the dock to the public telephone box, unaware of the Russian following even more cautiously behind him. One bullet. He cursed his shaking hands. He would have to get closer to be absolutely sure of his shot. But if he did miss the noise would turn the Russian towards him and Bodie would be alerted to the danger. One bullet. What difference did it make which gun it came from? Dead was dead, but either way, Bodie would be spared. Determined now, he continued to crawl towards the Russian.

 **Chapter Twenty Two**

The extra sense that had kept Bodie alive for so long was screaming a warning. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He turned quickly and saw the Russian’s gun aimed at him. His luck had finally run out. There was nowhere to take cover. He berated himself. Cowley would be furious. How had he let himself get caught out in the open? How had he messed up so badly? Now Ray would be left on his own, sick and injured.

“I’m sorry, Ray.” His whisper was carried away by the cold wind and lost in the snow.

The Russian smiled at him. There was death in the cold eyes watching him. He heard the shot. Time stood still. He waited for the pain. But there was none. He watched, stunned, as the Russian toppled forward onto the wet pavement. He looked up to see Ray, gun still pointed at where the KGB man had stood, falling to his knees. One bullet. Used to save him. Reality slammed into him and time started moving again. The sound of the shot would alert the others. He had to get Ray back to cover before they were found.

He moved cautiously to the downed Russian. The gun had fallen from his hand and Bodie kicked it out of reach. He rolled the body onto its back; unblinking eyes stared up at him. The man was dead. He expected nothing less. Even on his last legs, Ray was a crack shot. With his partner’s life on the line, there was no way Ray would miss. It was an unbreakable trust. Despite whatever else might be going on in their partnership, they watched each other’s backs.

He bent down to pick up the Russian’s weapon. Ray would need it. He’d used his last bullet. A finger of something, fear...relief...moved down his back. He realised then what his partner had risked for him. Ray had taken a chance that he’d be able to at least wound the KGB man, allowing Bodie to get himself clear. If Ray had missed, Ray himself would have been totally exposed to the Russian’s gun.

He knelt down next to his partner, checking for a pulse. It was there, racing under his fingers. He had to get him to shelter, to a doctor. Tucking both weapons away, he gently picked Ray up and scanned the area for a place to hide. Running footsteps and voices limited his choices. He went quickly back to the pile of crates that had sheltered them earlier.

“The gun shot came from over here. Alexi was searching this area,” the voice had a slight Russian accent.

“They can’t have gone far, not with the shape we left Doyle in.” Bodie recognised Smythe’s voice.

The footsteps continued down the dock and passed their hiding place.

“Shit!” Spoken in unison, British and Russian accents combined. Bodie assumed they had found Alexi.

“Mullins,” Smythe called out loudly. “Over here. They have to be close.”

Bodie watched from his spot behind a large shipping crate as the three men began a thorough search of the area. Beside him he felt Ray stir. He laid a hand on the man’s head.

“Shh, Ray. We’re hidden, but you need to be quiet.” He leaned in and whispered softly. Ray nodded his understanding and slowly sat up. Bodie pulled the dead Russian’s gun from where he’d tucked it into his belt and handed it to Ray. Ray silently checked the clip and looked up at Bodie.

“Giving you a few more chances this time, sunshine.”

His words were greeted with a weak smile. He wasn’t sure that Ray actually understood where he was or what was going on. That narrowed their options for escape.

“We need to make a move. Surprise is our best chance.”

Ray nodded, eyes blank. Bodie took his chin and forced their eyes to meet. “Ray, you with me, mate?”

He watched the painful struggle as Ray fought to focus on him. He felt the fine tremors in the flesh beneath his hand. He wasn’t sure how much more he could expect from Ray. He was surprised when a firm grip took his hand.

“I’m okay, Bodie. What did you have in mind?”

“There are three of them. Odds are in our favour, but this is not a very good hiding place. I want to draw them out and deal with them singly. I thought to pick one and follow him, let him know I’m there and take him down. Have to do it quietly so as not to alert the others.”

“And I’m supposed to sit here while you make yourself a target again? That worked so well the last time.” Ray’s words held anger and it seemed to give him strength.

“I thought...”

“No, you didn’t think. I’m not helpless, Bodie. Ask Alexi! And I’m sure not going to stay here while you run off and play hero.”

They exchanged looks, Bodie chagrined and Ray angry. Bodie’s lips twitched.

“What about backup?” Ray finally broke the silence.

He looked at his watch. “Murphy called Cowley about eight this evening. If there were no problems on the road, the cavalry should be arriving any minute. Problem is they don’t know where we are. Without the R/T...” He stopped himself as he watched Ray’s face redden.

“It’s okay, Ray. It was an accident. We’ll get by.”

He watched as Ray hunched in on himself, putting his hands in his jacket pockets. He watched, puzzled, as the battered face lit up. Ray pulled his left hand out of the jacket pocket and tossed something at Bodie. He fumbled it a bit and then found himself holding a lighter. They smiled at each other, in sync once more.

“The bin over there looks to be full of rubbish. If we light that, it’ll draw all kinds of attention.” Ray finally felt a bit of hope. “If we position ourselves properly, we might be able to take down a couple of villains as well.”

Bodie ruffled his partner’s hair. “A brilliant idea, old son!”

 **Chapter Twenty Three**

They worked their way over to the rubbish bin and sat with their backs to it. Bodie kept watch, turned slightly to see behind them, while he kept watch in front. He pulled the tattered rug from around his shoulders and used the lighter to set flame to the frayed ends. When it had caught fire sufficiently he tossed it up into the bin. Bodie had pulled some paper out of the bin before they sat down. He lit those and tossed them in the bin as well. They stayed long enough to make sure the fire was going to keep burning and then moved further down the dock. They hid amongst a pile of tarps and watched the fire build.

The scene wavered in front of his eyes. He was feeling quite sick to his stomach again. The water that Bodie had been frequently forcing on him stirred restlessly in his gut. His head hurt and he was still fighting dizziness. The short run to get to this shelter had taken the last bit of strength he had. He had to hold on though. Bodie still needed him. There’d be time to give in to his injuries later.

He felt Bodie stiffen beside him.

“There,” Bodie pointed toward the burning rubbish. “I see one of them coming round the bin.” Bodie raised his gun and fired twice. The figure dropped. He grunted in approval.

“Might be ready to challenge you in hand guns next time around, mate.” Bodie’s smug voice sounded far away. He realised he was losing consciousness.

“Bodie...” He reached out for his partner. “I’m sorry... can’t stick around...”

“Don’t you pass out on me, mate. We’re not out of this yet.”

His eyes opened. “I’m not worried, Bodie. You’ll save me... you always do...”

He woke to the sound of sirens, men shouting and someone calling his name, over and over again, almost like a prayer.

“Ray, c’mon. Ray, wake up. Ray, don’t do this to me.” The words intruded on the peace he’d found. He decided the way to make them stop was to obey. He opened his eyes. Bodie’s face, usually so composed and unreadable, was naked with emotion. He watched as fear and regret played across the pale features. He was still calling him. He placed a cold finger on Bodie’s lips and then weakly pulled himself up and pressed his lips to Bodie’s, hard, his eyes never leaving Bodie’s. The words finally stopped. Bodie broke the kiss.

“God, Ray. I thought... I thought I’d lost you.” The voice was shaking.

“What... what happened, Bodie?”

“After Smythe came around the bin and I shot him, you passed out. The other two came running toward us, but shots from the warehouse took them both. Murphy. He brought Cowley and the mob. I couldn’t wake you. I thought...”

“I’m here... not going anywhere without you.”

Bodie gathered him up in a firmer embrace. “Ambulance is on its way.” He heard hesitation in his partner’s voice. “We have to talk, Ray.”

“Not now. Later.”

“Need to tell you now. While I’m sure you’ll listen.” Bodie tightened his arms, firmly holding him in place. “I’m sorry, Ray, that I believed all that about you... so fucking sorry...”

 **Chapter Twenty Four**

Bodie looked down at the man in his arms. He looked so vulnerable, not a word often associated with Raymond Doyle. The large green eyes opened wide. The heat in them took his breath away.

“Sorry... you bloody pillock. What are you sorry for? I’m the one should apologise, what I put you through.” Ray gasped and fell tiredly back into his embrace, murmuring words that denied the need for apologies, words that offered forgiveness without judgement.

They heard the men from the ambulance approach. Ray grabbed Bodie’s jacket in clenched fists and pinned Bodie in his gaze. “Don’t ever let me do this to us again.” The words were quiet and broken. The green eyes slid closed. Bodie gently kissed the bruised lids. He knew that he had found that friend worth dying for.

 **Epilogue**

It was almost dawn, the early morning light slowly beginning to make its appearance. The last stars of the night sky were fading back into hiding to wait there until the sun was once again tucked behind the horizon. Ray shivered as he sat by the water’s edge, the rock he had chosen for his seat leaching the warmth from his body. He marvelled again at how he found himself here, and that Bodie had come with him...

They’d left London as soon as Ray was released from hospital. It was late afternoon when they had arrived at the croft. He was still suffering the after effects of his imprisonment and had had to fight to stay awake. Bodie had laughed at him for turning in before the moon had risen. But the laughter stopped when he pulled Bodie into bed with him and wrapped his partner in his arms. Their loving was tender and gentle, both revelling in the return of the familiar tastes, touches and scents. Relaxed in the warmth of tangled legs and sheets, they had talked late into the night. Bodie finally drifted off, but he hadn’t been able to follow.

He lay still, holding his lover, and cursed his own nature. He could never simply let something go. Bodie had once said he’d blame himself for the invention of gunpowder. So he lay there, reliving the past weeks. He found guilt in his own actions, guilt that led to fear and fear that had bled away when he remembered the expression he woke to on the dock in Blackpool.

It humbled him that Bodie could be so forgiving. No words had been spoken. None were needed. Everything, understanding, forgiveness, acceptance and love, was there in the blue eyes watching him, welcoming him home. He had cried then, and Bodie had held him. In hospital, left on his own, he had time to think. He had beaten himself up over the deceptions he allowed Bodie to believe. Shame flayed him over the pain and confusion he had caused Bodie. And his brooding had finally made Bodie angry.

“Enough, Ray! It’s over, done, forgiven. So bury it in that messy head of yours and move on.” Bodie walked to the door. A quiet plea, “Bodie”, whispered in a broken voice stopped him. Bodie didn’t turn around but said “Get yourself sorted, Ray. I’ll be back in the morning.”

And he had returned, smiling like a child with a secret. “We’re out of here, Raymond.” He gleefully rubbed his hands together. “The Cow has given us leave. I think a trip to a certain Scottish croft is exactly what the doctor ordered.”

...The doctor indeed. He had been released from the hospital into Bodie’s care and now found himself staring blindly at the waves rushing up onto the shore, soaking his trainers.

“Penny for ‘em,” a soft whisper warmed his ear.

He smiled and leaned back into arms that encircled his chest with a contented sigh.

“Ray?”

Without turning around he said, “We almost lost this.”

Bodie dropped a kiss on the back of his neck. “Lost what?”

“This.” Shivering, he turned in Bodie’s embrace and kissed him deeply.

“Oi! Cold lips!” Bodie pulled back, a smile lighting his face.

“Cold lips… warm…” He started running his hand down Bodie’s chest and then further south.

“Raymond!” The mock surprise drew giggles from them both.

“...heart, you dozy bastard. Cold lips, warm heart,” he sniggered. “Don’t know where your mind is, mate.”

“Oh, I think you do…” Bodie turned him again so that Ray’s back was pressed to Bodie’s chest. He rested his chin on Ray’s shoulder. The warmth spread between them. “You won’t lose me, Ray.” All the laughter was gone from Bodie’s voice. “I doubted you, but I was wrong to do that. It won’t happen again.”

“I won’t give you cause… ever again. Cowley be damned.”

They stood silently watching the sky turn from red to orange and finally to blue.

“Do you remember the last time we were here at the croft?” The innocence of the question was belied by the glint of mischief in the heavily lidded green eyes.

“I’ve still got sand in places it doesn’t belong, sunshine. You’re not thinking of…”

“Oh, I am, love.” He turned in Bodie’s arms and pulled the scarf from around Bodie’s neck. “I most definitely am.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **Notes:** I bothered many people in the writing of this story. I want to thank you all for the advice, information and encouragement. You all know who you are! Special thanks to _"callisto65"_ for the early beta and grammar lesson, to _"firlefanzine"_ for being the best cheerleader ever! And _piskiedust_ for a thorough beta, brit check and lots of ideas and support. (Ray wants to send out a thanks to _dawnbeth_ without whose medical advice I’d have had him dead around Chapter 13 (too much “h” in the “h/c” *g*)) And a big “THANKS” and “Well Done, Mate” to my vidder . The Video is terrific! (posted at the end of the story)
> 
> All mistakes herein are mine. And as usual, I’ve only borrowed the characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed taking part in the challenge!


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